I don’t fall in love. I don’t let women into my life past the guard gate. The biggest reason is because love doesn’t last, so why invest into it? It’s a honeymoon phase, it’s la-la land. Sure, it’s awesome how she and I have been spending time together around the house, going for walks in the park, going on dates in the evening once the baby is put in bed, and all that. I love taking her into stores and letting her choose things. She never lets me pay, but I always insist and sometimes get the clerk to ring it up on my card.

She’s stubborn as fuck, but she’s real. Down to earth. A real woman with real good values. Her mama raised her right. I have to remember to thank her if I ever see her. The whole thing is a fucking fantasy come true. But fantasies don’t last. They don’t follow through. They always fall apart—everybody knows that.

Half my brain tells me “so what?” Enjoy what you have while you have it, Ethan. So what if it’s an illusion? So what if this woman’s head in your lap while you watch Baby Einstein is a mirage that will disappear as soon as you can’t handle the real pressures of a love relationship anymore? And that baby over there, crawling toward the TV cabinet, trying to figure out how to pull herself up so she can reach those shiny toys on the big screen? Another mirage who’ll one day fade away when she grows up and leaves you in the dust.

It’s better you end this soon. You’re getting in way too deep.

It’s the best choice for everything. Yes, there will be a period of temporary pain for everybody, but then soon, life will resume in a much better way for both of them than I could’ve ever provided. I don’t deserve them.

I am damaged goods to the n^th degree.

But because of Penelope, I’m trying to stay positive. She has a way of seeing things that instills hope in me, and I’m trying to adopt that same mentality. I’ve gone all in these next two weeks. We make love more and more like we did on the balcony. We make dinners together, and we talk about her startup business. She’s even let me step in a bit to help, between her website and sending her a couple of my client’s clients. It’s small and humble, but it keeps her busy and happy, and there’s nothing I love more than seeing her happy.

She deserves it.

She deserves so much more than I can give her.

* * *

One day, while Penelope is sleeping, Lilly Belle is fussy as all get out, so I take her out for a walk—just her and me. It’s the first time I go anywhere with her alone. A month ago, I never would’ve seen myself doing it, but here I am. In the stroller, she’s bouncy about the endless possibilities. Maybe that’s why she was fussing—she wanted us to take her for a stroll. I think I’m learning baby talk.

Right away, I feel the pressure to make her happy. Amazing how women can do that.

“Alright, Silly Belle,” I say, turning right and going down Fifth Ave. “Where to? Uncle Ethan at your service.” I inhale the city’s deepening aura. There’s Halloween decorations in windows, the park is a blanket of gold, and there’s a bite of deep fall in the air.

She slaps the stroller tray happily, sitting up all the way. This kid has grown so much in the two months she’s been with me. I was scared of how fragile she was when I first saw her, but now that she’s older, I can almost see her as a toddler running around the playground. I think that’s when dads do their best, when they can chase the kids and toss them into a pile of leaves.

If you let her stay, you can do that next year at this time.

Pushing the thought away, I take her up Fifth Ave, cut into the park, and take her all the way to the Discovery Center. There by the lake, I take her out of the stroller and plop her into the grass. She gives me the most thankful look ever, like Penelope never takes her out of the stroller. Then she stares at the green stuff around her, wondering what it is.

“It’s grass, Silly Belle,” I laugh, ripping some up and handing it to her.

She examines it carefully then takes it straight to her mouth, of course.

“No, not to eat. To play with. See?” I pull it off her lips and rip up more grass, throwing it in the air and making a big show about it falling on my head.

Lilly Belle laughs her ass off, which in turn makes me laugh my ass off. She pulls at the grass and throws it in the air, except her fists are empty, ‘cause she wasn’t strong enough to actually rip out any. Doesn’t matter. She keeps laughing. An older woman sitting in yoga position nearby laughs, too. This baby is so cute and crazy, I get a real unexpected pang of sadness in my heart just then. My sister’s not here to see this. Just nine months ago, they brought this little garden gnome into the world with the biggest, happiest expectations, and they then fucking perished, because some DUI asshole decided his drunk driving was more important than anyone else’s life.

It’s fucking cruel. A cruel joke.

A duck heads our way under the false impression that we’ve got some breadcrumbs for her. “Sorry, girlfriend. Just grass. Shoo,” I tell it. Then I see Lilly Belle’s eyes widen in horror at the massive feathered beast headed her way. She whines and turns toward me to please pick her up, and I do, and she clings to my chest. Who knew that babies could be scared of birds?

I hold her against me, feeling her tiny heart pounding against mine.

I can’t explain what goes through me just then. She turned to me when she got scared. She clung to my chest. She needed me to protect her.

“I got you, Silly Belle. It’s just a mean, ol’ duck.” I shoo the evil beast away one more time until it finally gets the point. Silly Lilly Belle clings to me until she’s sure the imminent danger has passed. Then, she gets up and looks in my eyes, babbles something then pats my face, tiny finger-spread hand just “whack” on my face.

“Ah, the thanks I get,” I tell her, pulling her hand off. “No hit.”

She points at the duck. Her eyes are deep blue with sparkles reflecting off the water’s surface.

I don’t know what to say to her after that. I almost can’t even look her in the eyes anymore. How am I supposed to tell this little girl that she’d be better off without me? That somewhere in her future, there’s a mom and dad who desperately have been waiting all their lives for a baby girl like her who will give her the most amazing childhood ever?

How do I tell her that I don’t think it can be me? That I don’t have the patience, the lifestyle, nor the relationship for it? “I love her, Lilly Belle. I love your nanny. At least, I’m pretty sure I do, but it’s just a feeling, you know? It fades with time. This is a known fact.”

No, it’s not, her eyes seem to tell me. Would you stop loving me over time?

Don’t know where that thought came from, but the answer is a resounding no. What she doesn’t understand is that she should go away from me because I love her. She should go with another family because I care for her. I want her to be happy. I can run a Fortune 500 company, I can make billions of dollars a year, and I can keep the families of Townsend Industries employed and functional, but I don’t know how to be the parent I never had.

Little girl, our beautiful fall will soon turn to coldest of winters, but then will come spring, and spring means rebirth. And hopefully by then, you’ll have a real family.