Page 53 of With a Cherry On Top

“Of course she does, Sadie. She loves you more than anything in the world.”

She stares at the fabric of my shirt as she picks at it with fidgeting fingers. “What if you stop loving me too?”

A knot forms in my throat.

“Hey.” I tilt her chin up, forcing her to look at me. Her big, tearful eyes meet mine, desperate for reassurance. “You listen to me right now,” I say, my voice firm and sure. “I willalwayslove you.Always.And so will Mom. She can’t wait to come back to you.”

Sadie sniffles again, her bottom lip wobbling. “She didn’t want to talk to me,” she whines. “I heard you.”

My mind races back to my phone call to Josie’s rehab—I stepped out to the backyard, lowered my voice so Sadie wouldn’t hear the clipped tension in my words. But she heard.

Fuck.

“N-no, you misunderstood,” I try, but the damage is already done.

Sadie pulls the blanket higher, burying half her face in it. “What if she left us forever? Willow’s daddy never came back.”

I blink hard, forcing down the lump in my throat.

She’s six.She shouldn’t have to worry about shit like this. She shouldn’t have to lie awake at night, wondering if her mother will come back to her.

I cup her cheek, my thumb brushing away a stray tear. “Do you trust me?”

She hesitates before she nods.

“Do I ever lie to you?”

She shakes her head.

“Then please believe me when I tell you Mom loves you. Shewillcome back to you, and nothing’s going to stop her.”

A long, shaky breath escapes her, then she tucks her head under my chin. “Daddy?”

“Yeah, love?”

“We started practicing for Mom Day.”

I pause. “Mom Day?”

She nods against my chest. “At school. Mommies are supposed to come. We’re making a show for them.”

Fucking hell—Mother’s Day.Mother’s Day is less than three weeks away.

“Willow’s mommy and Jason’s mommy and Lisa’s mommy are coming,” she stutters. “But...what if mine doesn’t?”

I close my eyes for a second, trying to claw myself out of the helplessness that comes with knowing I can’t give her what she wants most. “I could come.”

“You?”

“Uh-huh.”

“But you’re not a mommy.”

Hard to argue with that. I think for a few seconds. “What about Auntie Primrose? I’m sure she’d love to come.”

“But she’s not my mommy.”

“You really want Mom to come, huh?”

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