All or Nothing at All(72)

"Yes! Because I'm her real father!" he shouted. "Becca is mine!"

"You're my dad?"

Sydney gasped and whipped around. Her daughter stood framed in the doorway, dressed in pink Hello Kitty pajamas, hair springing wildly around her head, those sleepy eyes huge as she stared at both of them, blinking furiously. Sydney clapped a hand over her mouth, swallowing her cry.

A shocked silence filled the kitchen. The room spun, tilted, then steadied. Dear God, how much had she overheard? What had they done?"

Sydney walked over, dropping to her knees and grasping Becca's hands in a tight grip. "Baby, I'm so sorry we were yelling. What did you hear?"

"Just what Tristan said. That he's my dad. Is it true?"

Her body shook as if feverish. Her lungs barely squeezed breath out, throwing her into a panic. She realized this was a moment she'd planned for Becca's whole life. Yet this wasn't the way she wanted her daughter to find out the truth. Fear choked her, but she pushed it aside and swore she'd do whatever possible to make it right. To make sure Becca wasn't scarred from finding out this way. "Becca, look at me." 

Her daughter gazed into her eyes.

"I love you. I love you more than you'll ever imagine. Do you believe me?"

"Of course. Mommies always love their children more than anything else."

She blinked back the sting of tears. "That's right. You may get mad at me for not telling you the truth sooner about your dad. And the reason I didn't want to tell you was because you were too little to really understand. There was a lot of grown-up stuff going on."

She paused, glancing at Tristan to make sure he was ready. That he'd support what she was about to tell her daughter.

His face. Oh, God, his face was full of the divine as he stared at Becca, drinking in her presence as if she were water to his parched soul. Eyes lit with gentleness and pure love, as if he still couldn't believe she was part of him.

And then she knew it had to be done. Tristan deserved to be a father to Becca. She'd taken that from him, and it was time to reunite them, no matter how difficult it was going to be. She couldn't lie to her daughter to buy more time.

"Grown-up stuff about my dad?" Becca asked.

"Yes, baby. There's something you didn't know because I didn't tell you. You actually have two dads. Your first dad was here for a little while. He married Mama, but then he had to go far away for work."

"I know. That's why I never see him."

"That's right. But you have a second dad. Your real dad. And the only reason he didn't come back to see you is Mommy never told him he was your real dad."

Becca frowned. "What do you mean? Why wouldn't you tell him he was my dad?"

Sydney gathered up her courage and took the leap. "Because we had a big fight before you were born, and I didn't think he wanted to be a dad. But I was wrong, Becca. He did want to be your dad, and I made a mistake."

She ached to snatch her daughter and wrap her arms around her body. But she remained still, knowing Becca needed to process this information in her own way.

"So my real dad never came to see me because he didn't know?"

Sydney spoke past the lump in her throat. "That's right."

"He knows about me now, and he wants me?" she whispered.

This time, tears filled her eyes, and she couldn't fight them off. "Yes, baby. He wants you so badly. He never wants to leave you again."

Those beautiful green eyes filled with such hope Sydney's heart shattered. She gazed at Tristan. "Is it you?" she whispered.

Tristan crossed the room and dropped to his knees in front of Becca. Slowly he reached out a trembling hand and cupped Becca's cheek. His voice was full of gravel and broken yearning as he spoke the words that changed everything.

"Yes, Becca, it's me. I'm your father. And I want you more than anything in the whole world."

The room was drenched in silence. No one moved, or breathed, as father and daughter gazed upon each other for the first time.

And then with a cry, Becca launched herself into his arms, clinging to him and crying, and Tristan held her like the most precious, treasured gift in the world.

Sydney watched them hold each other, the past and present merged in a moment of time that broke her completely and healed her in one perfect twist.


He sat with his daughter curled in his arms, the coconut scent of her shampoo drifting to his nostrils. They hadn't wanted to leave each other's presence, so he answered her endless questions as best he could, with Sydney running interference, perched on the edge of the sofa.




 

 

He studied her small, graceful hands, marveling at how little they were wrapped in his, her nails topped with pink glitter polish. He'd expected anger or resentment. He'd prepped for her reserve and distrust, struggling to understand why he'd suddenly shown up seven years later with an intention to become part of her life.