Chapter 16

"Emma, I promise, no matter what happens between Mommy and me, I will NEVER leave you again. Even if we don't agree, even if we live in different places, I'll always be your dad, and I'll always wanna be with you."

She looked right at me, checking to see if I meant it.

"Okay," she said. "I believe you. But Daddy?"

"Yeah?"

"I think you gotta say sorry to Mommy. Like, with flowers and a speech, maybe a song. She's been sad about you for a long time."

My five-year-old was giving me relationship advice about her own mother. I wanted to both laugh and cry.

"Good advice," I said. "Any other ideas on how to fix things?"

Emma smiled, happy to help. "Her favorite flowers are white roses, not red ones. Red roses make her think sad stuff. And she likes you to see the little things, like how she makes my food into hearts, or the bedtime stories."

I was getting a crash course in Bella from our daughter. It was a lot to take in. Emma had seen all of her life for five years, while I was just a stranger.

"What else should I know about Mommy?" I asked.

"She works hard, but always has time for me. She knows three languages and talks Italian to herself when she's thinking. She makes the best cookies, but not all the time because of sugar." Emma stopped, thinking. "Oh, and she still has a picture of you in her box."

My heart skipped a beat. "She does?"

Emma nodded. "From your wedding. I found it when I was dressing up. Mommy doesn't know what I saw, but she looked at it before she put it back."

Bella had kept a wedding photo. After five years, she had *one* picture hidden away.

"Emma," I said, "do you think Mommy still has feelings for me?"

"Grown-up feelings are confusing," Emma said. "But Mommy gets quiet when sad songs are on, and she looks out the window like she's waiting for you."

We read books and I found out just how smart Emma really was. She knew all about plots and characters, but still had that imagination.

"This princess is the best," Emma said, showing me a book where science saves everything. "She does everything herself."

"Sounds like you," I said.

Emma smiled. "And Mommy. Mommy says princesses save themselves and then teach others to be good."

After lunch, Emma showed me all her art stuff. Her room was super organized, drawings everywhere, everything in order.

It was the drawings in her folder that got to me.

"These are all the pictures I drew of you before I knew what you looked like," Emma said, spreading them everywhere. "I was just trying to draw what I thought you looked like."

The drawings changed over time. Some had stick figures, others had more detail. Some of the recent ones looked a lot like me, doing stuff with Emma. Reading, playing, all the ideas she had saved.

"Emma, these are amazing," I said. "How long have you been drawing these?"

"Since I was four and started asking about you. Practicing what it would look like so you could come." Emma liked them. "I think I got you pretty good."

"Really good. You're an artist."

"Thanks! I wanna be an artist and a scientist and maybe a CEO. But first I wanna be a really good daughter so you and Mommy stay together."

She just said it so casually. Emma thought she could keep us together.

"Emma, listen to me," I said, kneeling down. "Whether Mommy and I get back together has nothing to do with you. You are great just the way you are, and how I feel about you will not ever change no matter what happens."

"Really?" she asked.

"Really. Grown-up stuff is grown-up stuff. You just gotta play, learn, and be a kid."

Emma thought about it. "Okay, but I still want you and Mommy to be happy together 'cause it'll make me happy."

"I do too," I said. "But even if we don't, you'll always have us loving you. Sometimes they look different, but that's okay."

We spent the afternoon building a castle, and Emma knew *everything* about how it worked. My daughter was a genius with the same brainpower she used on everything.

"Daddy," she said, looking at the castle, "can I ask something serious?"

"Sure."

"Did you know you hurt Mommy badly when I was born?"

I was ready for this. "Yes," I said. "I know I messed up, and I missed you for five years because of what I did."

Emma nodded. "I don't know what happened, but Mommy gets sad on my birthday. And Uncle Lucas gets mad when people say your name, like he wants to protect Mommy."

Woah. My daughter knew what was happening.

"Emma, the problems Mommy and I had were before you," I said. "It wasn't EVER your fault, and you were the greatest thing EVER, even if I didn't get it."

"But you see it now?"

"I do. Emma, meeting you has been the most important thing ever. I just wish that I had realized it five years ago."

Emma looked deep with her eyes. "Daddy, I think you should know I forgave the mistakes you made before I could even remember. But Mommy might take longer, 'cause feelings can be hard sometimes."

My daughter. Five years old, giving me forgiveness. While still letting me know that I have to work harder to gain her mother's forgiveness.

"Thank you for giving me your forgiveness," I said, feeling all the feels. "It means more than you know."

"You're welcome. But Daddy?"

"What?"

"I think you gotta think about how Mommy is really smart and strong now. She's not the one from before. If you want her, you have to be in love with who she is now."

Woah. Relationship advice from a five-year-old.

My daughter knew the truth.

"Emma," I said, pulling her in, "you are for sure the smartest person I know and I am so lucky to be the guy who gets to show you how good it feels to be someone's dad."

"I'm lucky too," she said, hugging me. She went on, "Even if you are the guy who hurt Mommy's feelings, I still have hope for you! Like you might be a bad guy, but still a good guy. Because as they say: "Don't cry over spilled milk."

We sat in her room surrounded by drawings of the family she'd been dreaming about. It wasn't going to be about grand gestures or what history we had together. Showing up every day, and letting her be a part of their family, and me a part of theirs again—that was all it was really about.