For the first time ever, I feel bad leaving. I want nothing more than to stay with Emma. I want to watch her sleep, listen to her dream, and wake her up with another round before feeding her a solid breakfast.

But I have to get home. I’m a father. I’ve got obligations.

But she’s so sweet right here, beside me, her breathing even and slow. She’s sleeping. Peacefully. Without issues to the rough encounter we’d had. The pain I’d put her through. Even now, I see the redness of her exposed hip where the sheet had dug in. It’ll be hours before those go away. Hell, with how pale she is, they might even bruise.

The stinging in my shoulder is achingly painful, and I glance down, seeing where she’d sunk her teeth into me when I’d gone too far and hurt her. The skin is bruised and red, but I’m not upset. She’d stood her ground. She’d let me rough her up, but not without some protest.

In her sleep, she shifts, murmuring something unintelligible. I glance around her room, loving the slight blue tint to the off-white walls, the sheer curtains, the warmth of her pale yellow comforter. The room is chilly, yet warm. It’s filled by her. Her scent, her presence, her soul.

It feels like home.

I rise from her side, hating myself as she curls into the warmth I’d left behind. Everything in me wants to stay. But I can’t.

Obligations.

And, for the first time, I’m disappointed that I can’t stay. But if Olivia were to come looking for me and I wasn’t there… I don’t want that. She’s in a vulnerable place. And she has to come first.

Of course my daughter comes first. What am I even thinking?

Quietly, I get dressed.

I slip out the door, then out of the house, careful not to wake her. In the truck, I sit a moment, looking up at her room.

When I turn over the engine and drive off, I see it; the glint of a dark car, sitting down the driveway. Before I can get close, it shoots off into the dark of the night, disappearing on the main road toward the freeway.

I give chase, wondering who the hell is sitting in her driveway, watching us. A sickening knot winds up in my gut. Whoever it is, they know what happened. They know she and I are sleeping together. They couldn’t not know; from their vantage point, they’d be able to see right into her bedroom window. Sure, they’d need binoculars, but why else would they be there?

But on the freeway, the car vanishes into the flow of traffic and speeds off so fast I can’t imagine they won’t get pulled over. Thinking smart, I decide to set up some cameras on her driveways and call up Beau, the bodyguard I put on Olivia.

“What’s up, boss?” he growls into the phone.

“I need you to keep an eye on an address. Ready?” I ask. When he agrees, I rattle off the info and breathe easy. Beau will keep me informed. And he’ll send over one of his trusted guys to keep an eye on her. She’ll never know it, Beau assures me, and I trust him.

Once I’m off the phone, I head toward home, trying to decide what I’m going to do with Emma.

I wake up to Olivia climbing into bed with me. “Good morning,” I tell her, and she smiles and kisses my cheek.

“Will you make me pancakes?” she whispers, her blue eyes on mine. She’s heartbreakingly sweet and I kiss her nose.

“Of course,” I whisper back before asking, “Why are we whispering?”

She shrugs and cuddles in close. I hold her for a little while until I hear he belly growling. “Let’s get you those pancakes before your stomach opens up and swallows the room,” I say and she giggles and leaps up to race to my door.

After I’ve made her favorite pancakes, chocolate chip and banana, we sit at the table.

“Are you going to marry Emma?” she asks, drizzling a little maple syrup on the side of the plate so she can dip a bite at a time in it.

Taken aback, I look at her in shock. “What makes you think that?” I ask.

She shrugs, focusing on cutting her pancakes with mathematical precision. “I’ve been doing really well in school.”

“I know, honey,” I say, wondering how to handle the abrupt change in conversation. Still, her improvement was incredible. “I’m proud of you.” She was no longer staring fights. Her grades had risen to nearly perfect, and even her teachers had been sending home notes that she was an absolute pleasure to have in class.

“Thanks!” She says, her face lighting up with pleasure.

“Do you want me to marry Emma?” I ask, and she refuses to look at me. My heart sinks a little, and I worry she’s not willing to talk to me. “This is a safe space,” I tell her, motioning to the table. No right or wrong answers,” I say, remembering the guidance of the family therapist. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“I like her,” she says, “is that enough?” She seems puzzled by her feelings, and I decide to be honest with her.

“I’m not sure. I’m wondering the same thing. I like her, is it enough?”

She finally looks up at me, a smile on her face. And I realize it’s not the specifics that matter; she’s glad to know that, as an adult, I don’t have all the answers, either.

“I think so,” she says, and I dip my head in a bow to her thoughts.

It’s going to be hard. But now, with Olivia off to school and Sandy running errands, I have the house to myself. And I can make a call. A call I don’t want to make. One that will hurt. It will suck. But I have to do it.

Emma’s phone goes to voicemail; but I’m glad I can just talk to the machine.

“I’m sorry.” It’s a start. A good one, I think.

“I’m a terrible human being. I was going to marry you to get my hands on your ranch.” I take a breath, feeling lightheaded as I run a hand through my hair. I must be crazy. I’m giving her evidence, a recording of my voice to use against me.

“I screwed up, and I’m an asshole. I’m sorry.” It feels like punctuation now. But it’s not a lie. I really am sorry for even considering something so terrible. But Olivia made me realize something; I like her. It’s enough. I need to fix what I’ve broken if I want any chance of something more. And with Emma, it’ll be something real. Something right.

And as I speak, it gets easier. “I grew up with an abusive dad. He used to beat me, my mom, and both my brothers.”

“When he died, it created a rift between me and my brothers. Well, me and my family. Kyle thought it should have been me. And maybe he was right. I stood up to dad. I told him that I thought he was a shitty excuse for a human. That he was nothing more than a wife beating punk.” It hurts, even now, but I can’t quite tell her the one thing I should tell her. The one secret I’m keeping locked away in a box buried deep in my being. She doesn’t need to know.

No one needs to know.

“But that’s no excuse for what I did to you. What I was going to do to you,” I clarify. “I hope you can forgive me.”

As I hang up, I feel… free. Finally giving voice to the truth, owning up to how terrible I can be, is the most incredible feeling. And if Emma can see me at my worst and decide I’m worth something to her, well, then I’ll know.

Either way, I’ll know.