“No,” I said. “You don’t.”
I let the silence sit.
Then I said, “You can learn to be her father.”
He nodded quickly.
“But you don’t get to visit the role whenever it feels convenient.”
“I know.”
I lifted Chloe myself and placed her carefully in his arms.
Barbara looked at him.
“Do you?”
He nodded.
I lifted Chloe myself and placed her carefully in his arms.
Eric looked terrified.
“Support her head,” I said.
Even Eric gave a tired half smile.
“I know.”
Barbara snorted.
“Clearly we aren’t assuming anything anymore.”
Even Eric gave a tired half smile.
He didn’t become decent overnight.
Real life was slower.
What mattered to me was what he did next.
He moved into an apartment rather than take on the higher rent.
Tessa left not long afterward.
Eric’s life got smaller for a while.
What mattered to me was what he did next.
Over the following months, support payments began arriving regularly, and Eric kept showing up for scheduled visits.
I didn’t comfort him about it.
Sometimes he was stiff and uncertain with Chloe. Sometimes she screamed until I took her back.
I didn’t comfort him about it.
He kept returning anyway.
Barbara changed too.
She still saw Eric, but stopped paying surprise bills or solving problems he created.
Months later, Barbara sat at my kitchen table while Chloe slept nearby.
When he complained, she listened without rescuing him.
“It’s incredibly unpleasant,” she told me once. “Apparently parenting still counts at age sixty-two.”
“Apparently.”
