I bought my daughter a house to give her something steady, something that couldn’t walk away. At her housewarming, she introduced me to the one person I never saw coming: her biological father. I smiled through it until she raised her glass and rewrote the word “father” in front of everyone.
The first time I saw him, I dropped a bag of ice on my daughter’s kitchen floor.
It split open, the cubes skittered under the fridge.
My cousin, Mark, laughed. “Bruce, you okay?”
I bent down too fast, scooping ice with my bare hands like that would fix the feeling in my chest. My fingers went numb.
Because the reason I’d dropped it wasn’t clumsiness. It was the man standing in the living room like he had every right to be here.
He didn’t.
“Bruce, you okay?”
He was tall, clean-cut, with an easy smile that I could see on my daughter’s face. He held a drink and laughed with my sister like he belonged in the middle of my family.
She’d warned me that she wanted to find to find him, but I didn’t expect him to be here.
Then Nancy walked right up beside him and said, “Dad, come here.”
I wiped my hands on my jeans and went, my heart thumping like it already knew.
“This is Jacob.”
He stepped forward before I could breathe. He stretched out his arm, a wide smile on his face.
“Dad, come here.”
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