“Daddy!” Jazz cries as I walk into her room at Mary’s. She’s supposed to be sleeping, but I knew she wouldn’t be. For Jazz, there’s too much going on to ever take a break and sleep until you don’t have a choice.

“Hey, Princess. Are you ready for today?”

“Uh huh! Mamaw gave me dress!” she says excitedly, leaving out one of her words. She makes me smile. A real smile. The kind I wear more and more these days.

“Good. She’ll be in here in a minute to help make you even more beautiful. Daddy just wanted a minute to love on his best girl,” I tell her, pulling her up into my lap, as I sit on her bedside.

“Love you, Daddy,” she whispers, wrapping her arms around my neck and planting the sloppiest kiss imaginable on the side of my face. I’ve experienced about all the dark in life a man could stomach. But, I know that there is nothing so dark that the feel of your daughter telling you she loves you couldn’t push it away. Her love is much like her mother’s. Sunshine. Warm heat. Happiness.

“I love you too. I better get going. Daddy needs to make sure Mommy gets all her surprises.”

“Tell me a story!” she demands, and her eyes, so much like her mom’s shine up at me, pleading. I instantly melt. There’s nothing in this world she could ask for that I wouldn’t give her. I think she’s already discovered that, but I hope she hasn’t—or else I might be in real trouble later on. “Please, Daddy,” she asks again, that little chin wobbling. Who am I kidding? I’m already in real trouble with this one.

“Okay, a quick one. What story do you want?” I ask, already knowing. There’s only one story I’ve told her over and over, since the first moment I held her in my arms. Mine and Carrie’s story—at least in fairytale version.

“Princess and Toll!” she cries excitedly.

“Troll,” I correct her—like I always do. She ignores me, like she always does.

“Once in a land far, far away lived a Princess with beautiful long red hair…”

“Just like me, Daddy!”

“Just like you, baby. She had laughing green eyes and everyone that met her, loved her…”

I tell the story from memory, because I made it up myself so many years ago, about a beautiful Princess and the ugly Troll that she insisted on loving. It’s a story I never get tired of, and a story Jazz always demands. A story that has a happy ending because of Carrie.

Always, Carrie.

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready?” Mary asks, coming in the room, as I finish telling Jazz her story.

“Just heading that way,” I answer, kissing Jazz before I help her off the bed. I take the box out of Mary’s hand, kissing her cheek. “You look beautiful, Mom,” I tell her, and it’s the truth. She’s wearing a soft pink dress and her gray hair is brushed until it shines. It frames her small, pixie face, appearing much younger than she actually is.

“This old thing? My son bought it for me on the day he gave me one of the best presents he’s ever given me.”

“I didn’t get a pwesent!” Jazz complains, and Mary laughs while I grin at the way she mispronounces her r’s. I’m going to miss these small things when Jazz gets older. Maybe Carrie and I should think about having another child? We want more, and really it would be better if the kids were closer in age so they would play together when they got older.

“You did too, it’s in this box,” Mary says, patting the box I laid on the bed a second earlier. “Speaking of which, you better take Carrie her box. Just leave it outside of the door, Jacob Blake. I don’t want her seeing you before the wedding.”

“Mom—”

“I mean it! We will not tempt fate.”

I shake my head, but there’s a big part of me that agrees with her. I don’t want to do anything that might mess up today. I need today to be as close to perfect as possible for Carrie.

“Got it,” I tell her, kissing her forehead. “You would have made a good drill sergeant,” I tease her, walking towards the door.

“Daddy!” Jazz squeals, and I stop, turning around just before she slams her little body into my legs. “You didn’t hug me,” she says, so I kneel and give the Princess what she demands. A hug.