“First of all, sorry for the ambush.” She takes a breath, looking down for a moment before meeting my gaze again. “But, uh...there’s a lot more I need to apologize for. Starting with what I said at the station.”
“Oh.” The memory of that argument is still fresh, but it’s thelastthing I want her to apologize for. “Thank you, but?—”
“No, let me say it.” She holds up a hand. “I have no right to tell you how to live your life. How to parent Sadie, when I wasn’t around to do it.” A single tear spills over. “I never thanked you. Notonce. You took care of our daughter when I couldn’t, and I never bothered to tell you how grateful I am for it.”
A lump forms in my throat. “You don’t need to thank me, Josie. She’s Sadie. She’s the person I love the most in the world.”
“I never thanked you for that either.” She presses her eyes closed for a moment. “For being such an amazing, present dad.” She looks at her hands, then back up at me. “I know you didn’t do it for me, but...Sadie is the person I love the most too.”
We stand in silence, and I swear I can almost feel the grief. Can almost taste the regret, the loss. Maybe one day, seeing her won’t be such an ugly reminder, but right now, it’s devastating.
“I appreciate that, Josie. I do.”
She offers a tight, almost hesitant smile. “It’s not enough, but?—”
“No, it’s not nearly enough, because the problem isn’t whether you thanked me or you’re sorry for what you said. The issue is that you vanished from your daughter’s life for months. That I had tobegyouto call her. That you came back without saying a word and missed her Mother’s Day recital.”
“Iwasthere, actually.”
“What?”
“Yes.” Her lips wobble. “Sadie didn’t see me. I was going to her, but then, you and...” She huffs out a puff of air. “Charlotte...you hugged, danced. I...”
Oh, damn.
I can’t imagine that would’ve felt nice.
“It’s fine,” she says, wiping at her cheeks furiously. “I figured I didn’t deserve that moment, that you and Charlotte did.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were back, Josie? Why didn’t you come to see Sadie?”
She sniffles. “I needed time.”
“Time? Time for what? Because if you’re out of the rehab, I assume you’ve got your problem under control. Right?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Then what do you need time for? What’s more important than Sadie?”
Josie flinches, wrapping her arms around herself. “I needed time to be okay. To not just be sober, but to be someone Sadie can rely on. I’ve relapsed so many times that...I was scared, Aaron.”
“Scared of your own daughter?”
“You don’t get it, do you?” she snaps. “I love her so much it hurts. And I was abadmom to her. I was adrunk. The thought of doing it again, of screwing her up...I couldn’t take it. I thought—” She chokes out a gasp. “I thought maybe it was better for her if I wasn’t in the picture at all. If I never came back. If I didn’texist. Even a dead mom is better than a deadbeat.”
I blink, caught off guard.
She doesn’t mean that, does she?
“Every single day, I convinced myself I was doing the right thing. That Sadie was better off with you and not me.” Shesniffles. “I told myself that as long as she had you, she’d be okay. That she wouldn’t need me.”
My anger wars with something dangerously close to understanding. “No, Josie?—”
Her face twists in anguish, and when she speaks again, her voice is barely a whisper. “What if I ruin everything again?”
I scrape my teeth over my bottom lip. “You’re wrong. There is no scenario where Sadie doesn’t need you. Shealwayswill.”
Josie presses her fingers to her lips, her shoulders shaking. “I’m so sorry.”