Consistency matters.”
He sets down his drink. “You made your choice today.”
“No, Dad. I made room for both of you. You just didn’t want to share the space.”
For a moment, I see the man I used to wait for on the porch, hoping he’d arrive early and take me for ice cream. The man who once told me bedtime stories and held my tiny hand in his.
And I feel a
pang of loss.
But I also feel peace.
“I’m still your daughter,” I say. “You’re still part of my life. If you want to be.”
