“Jack Hunt,” I said to the doorman as I reached the front entrance. “I should be on the list to see Samantha Cole.”

He checked his tablet, and then he opened the door for me. “Do you know her unit number?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” I replied over my shoulder as I walked in and went over to the elevator, pressing the button for the sixth floor.

I’d been thinking about this elevator ride for the last few days. How it would feel when I reached her hallway, when I knocked on her door, and when she let me in.

That was because I wasn’t just meeting my daughter today. Samantha and I were also going to tell her that I was her father.

Since I’d left here a few nights ago, Samantha and I had been talking several times a day, and we’d weighed every option. She went back and forth on what would be best. She asked friends. She consulted with Lucy’s pediatrician. What she decided was to assess how the day was going. If things were all right, we’d tell her.

I couldn’t describe what was happening inside my body.

I just knew I was standing inside the elevator, staring at the numbers above the door, waiting for the goddamn thing to slide open. I knew my hands didn’t feel comfortable hanging at my sides or in my pockets or resting on my biceps as I crossed my arms.

As I shifted between my feet, the number six lit up.

The elevator stopped.

The door opened.

My eyes dropped down, catching the piece of art that hung on the wall across from me.

I inhaled, and I let the air sit in my lungs for a few seconds before I blew it out.

This wasn’t a meeting about endorsements. This wasn’t a negotiation. I wasn’t going to be sitting across the desk from a CEO or a professional athlete or a marketing team.

This decision-maker was probably going to be the most observant and intuitive one I’d ever met.

And she was only seven years old.

I left my confidence in the elevator, and then I made my way down the hall, halting when I reached her apartment. I knocked gently, and my hand moved to my side again. It felt misplaced, so I hooked it into my back pocket.

A few seconds passed before I heard the click of a lock and the twisting of the handle. As the door swung open, I expected my gaze to fall on Samantha’s gorgeous face.

But her eyes weren’t the ones looking back at me.

The ones I stared into were identical to mine.

Blue.

Sharp.

And so fucking bright.

“Lucy,” I heard myself whisper.

She was a tiny little girl, wearing a pink dress, with long, dark hair like her mother’s and full lips and a small nose.

Her smile was like mine.

The dimple on her left cheek—Jesus, she had gotten that from me, too.

“You must be the Mr. Jack Mom says is coming to hang out with us today.”

Her voice.

It was a little high-pitched and soft at the same time and so goddamn sweet.

“I am.”

“Then, it’s fancy to meet you, Mr. Jack.”

She stuck her hand toward me, and I saw the blue polish on her nails and what appeared to be flour on a few of her knuckles.

I delicately gripped her fingers. “It’s pretty fancy to meet you, too, Lucy.”

Lucy.

My daughter.

“Mom’s taking cookies out of the oven. She says I’m too young to do that, so we’re on decorating duty.” She waved her hand in the air, as if she were welcoming me inside their apartment. “Would you like to decorate cookies with me and my mom?”

I didn’t tell her that I never had.

Because it didn’t even matter.

Right now, I would do anything that little girl asked.

“I would love to,” I answered.

Her bare feet patted on the floor as she skipped into the kitchen. “Mom, Mr. Jack’s here. He wants to decorate cookies with us.”

Samantha was standing in front of the open oven, reaching inside to pull out a cookie sheet. She gazed at me as I stood in the entryway and mouthed, Sorry.

I was sure she was apologizing for not answering the door. As it turned out, I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

“Hey,” I said and leaned into the wall, glancing from her to Lucy.

She set the cookie sheet on the counter and took the mitts off her hands. “Hi.” With her eyes locked on mine, she said, “Lucy, did you introduce yourself to Mr. Jack?”

“Yes, Mommy. We’re already friends.”

I laughed, surprised by Lucy’s response.

“Is that so?” Samantha inquired.

“Yeppers.” Lucy came over to where I stood and put her fingers on my arm, tugging me deeper into the kitchen. “First, we wash your hands.” She took me to the sink and turned on the water, picking up the bottle of soap and squirting some onto my palm. “Lots of soap. That’s what Mom says.”

I rubbed my hands together, and then I held them under the faucet, feeling Lucy’s eyes on me, positive that Samantha was watching me from behind.

“Done,” I said, showing her my clean but very wet hands.

She handed me a dishcloth. “Yay, let’s decorate,” she squealed.

I smiled as I dried my fingers and followed her to the island. I’d been so focused on my daughter that I hadn’t paid attention to what was in all the bowls on the counter. There was frosting in several colors and different kinds of sprinkles and candies.

“This is my favorite part.” She lifted a cookie off the rack and placed it in front of her.

I watched as she spread the icing over the top with the precision of a surgeon. Her little tongue poked out as she carefully scattered the sprinkles.

She had marvel in her eyes, scanning the cookie all over, and when her masterpiece was complete, she declared, “It’s done.” She took another, placing this one in front of her, too. “I’m going to do a blue one now.” She looked at me. “Mom says we can send some to Uncle Shawn ’cause he loves my cookies, and blue is also his favorite color.”

“Lucy,” Samantha said, placing more on the rack, ones that she’d just taken out of the oven, “do you know that Mr. Jack works with Uncle Shawn? He’s his agent, which means he helps Uncle Shawn get deals with companies that want to work with him.”

She glanced up from the frosting, her mouth open in awe. “Like the camera one?”

“Yes,” I told her. “Just like the camera one.”

“That’s sooo cool.”

Samantha’s cell started ringing from the other side of the kitchen. She hurried over to it, lifted it into her hand, and stared at the screen. “Jack, I have to take this.”

I spread some blue icing over my cookie, making sure it was all even, getting most of it on my fingers. “It’s fine; go ahead.”

“You’re sure?”

I could see how terrible she felt about leaving us.

I nodded. “Don’t worry.”

With the phone in her hand, she rushed out of the kitchen and headed in the direction of her bedroom.

When I heard the door close, I said, “How do you think I did?” I held the cookie up for Lucy to inspect.

“More blue there,” she said, pointing to the left side with a finger that was completely covered in frosting. “Then, it’ll be so perfect.”

I picked up the spoon again, spreading more over the spot she’d pointed at, running the metal back and forth until I was sure it was all even. When there wasn’t any cookie showing through, I reached for the blue sprinkles and dusted just the outer edge.

“Yours is going to be really pretty.” She poured half a handful of sprinkles in the center of hers and moved to the next one. “Looks like it’s going to taste really good, too.”

“I hope so,” I told her. “I’m hungry, and I love cookies.”

“Mom will let us have one when we’re done, but only if we promise to eat all of our dinner…” She paused and looked toward the living room. When she glanced back at me, she said in a quiet voice, “She’s making pasta. And I looove pasta.”

Italian.

I knew that.

Her hand hovered over the frosting bowls. “Mr. Jack, what color do you like the most?”

“Red.”

She grabbed that spoon and scooped up enough to cover three cookies. “I’m going to make this one for you.”

I shook my head, smiling. “Thank you.”

She leaned closer to me to grab some chocolate chips. “Hey, you wear that smelly stuff that Uncle Shawn wears.”

I laughed as I remembered spraying on cologne when I’d gotten out of the shower. “I do.”

“Grandpa doesn’t wear anything that smells. He says it gives him a headache. Uncle Shawn wears lots of stuff, but his doesn’t smell like yours.”

“No?”

I knew the kind Shawn wore.

That was another endorsement I’d secured for him.

“Pinkie promise you won’t tell Uncle Shawn this secret?” She held out her hand, her littlest finger extended.

I wrapped mine around it, and she did a little shake. “I promise.”

“He smells like that one time Mom took me up north to see snow, and those trees with the long leaves—the ones that look like needles, ya know? He smells like those kinds of trees, and it makes me sneeze.”

A trip I had missed.

The next time she went north to see snow, I wanted to be with her.

I wanted to take her skiing.

Fuck, there were so many things I wanted to do.

“My mom always tells me my dad smelled real good.”

Goddamn, they’d been talking about me.

I closed my eyes for just a second, quickly opening them because I didn’t want Lucy to see, and I busied my hands with another cookie. “What else has your mom told you about him?”

She reached for the red sprinkles and dumped several piles over the chocolate chips. “That he was the most handsomest man in all the land. That he smelled good, he traveled all over the place, and that I have his eyes.” She turned toward me. “I love when I go to bed, and she tells me stories about my dad. He’s a really, really important man.”

I heard footsteps in the kitchen that didn’t belong to either of us, and I slowly glanced over to the doorway, meeting Samantha’s smiling face.

She laughed. “What are you two whispering about?”

Lucy faced her mom. “I told Mr. Jack he smells good and that you always say my dad smelled real good, too.”

Samantha’s chest began to rise and fall really fucking fast, her stare shifting over to me with so much emotion in it.

I knew nothing about timing.

Even less about children.

This had to be her call.

And, whatever she decided, I would support.

With even more emotion in her voice, Samantha said, “Let’s go to the park for a little while. We can take some cookies with us to eat there.”

Lucy jumped up and down. “Yippee! Mr. Jack, I caaan’t wait to show you my favorite slide.”

* * *

We spent a few hours in the park, playing on the slides and the swings and the balance beams. All three turned out to be Lucy’s favorites. When Lucy started getting hungry, we went back to their apartment, and we helped Samantha cook dinner. We were just finishing up eating when Samantha gave me a slight nod.

It was time.

Today had gone better than I’d imagined, and I could tell Samantha agreed.

But, man, I didn’t know how she was going to break the news. Or how Lucy was going to take it. Or how the fuck I was going to react when she voiced it to Lucy.

“Lucy,” she started, “we want to talk to you about something very important.”

Lucy glanced up from her plate with sauce all over her face. “Okay.”

Samantha hadn’t touched much of her dinner. I hadn’t really eaten mine either, but she had moved her plate to the spot next to her, so she could rest her hands on the table.

“Do you remember what I told you about your father?”

My gaze shifted between both girls.

One had blue eyes that were so fucking wide, and the other was trying to hold back her tears.

“Yes, Mommy. You told me you liked him a whole lot, but after you and Daddy met, you never saw each other again. And, if he knew I was born, he would love me very much.”

I couldn’t calm my breathing. My heart felt like it was exploding inside my chest.

If I had known she was born.

Fuck.

This hurt so much worse than I’d thought it would.

But this moment was between Lucy and her mom. Samantha needed to get this out. She had to be the one who told our daughter. So, for now, I was just going to listen and observe.

“That’s exactly right.” Samantha took a breath. “At Uncle Shawn’s Super Bowl party, I saw your daddy again.”

Her eyes lit up. “You saw him?”

Samantha nodded. “Yes, baby.”

“Did you talk to him?” she asked, sounding so interested.

“Yes, and I told him all about you, and he was so sad he didn’t know you were born, but he’s been dying to meet you and be a part of your life.”

“He is? Is he coming to see me?”

I couldn’t stay silent anymore. I had to be the one who told her this. She needed to hear it from me.

I swallowed and cleared my throat, not knowing what I would sound like when I finally said the words. “Sweetheart…” I waited for her to look at me. “I am your daddy.”

Her eyes widened even more. “You’re my daddy?”

I didn’t know how a seven-year-old would process this.

I didn’t know if there would be tears or questions.

Or anger.

But Lucy just continued to gaze at me, waiting for my answer.

“Yes, I’m your dad. And I’m so sorry I haven’t been here. Please understand that, if I had known about you, I wouldn’t have missed a day of your life.”

I was trying so fucking hard to keep the emotion out of my eyes.

I wasn’t the kind of guy who felt things this strongly.

Who teared up over shit like this.

But this little girl had changed something in me.

She made me feel different.

And the way she was looking at me right now told me she was feeling some of that, too.

I wasn’t just a guy who worked with her uncle Shawn, who liked the color red.

I had a title.

And it was one she hadn’t called anyone before.

She put her fingers on my arm, and I felt the stickiness of the pasta. “Can we see you whenever we want?”

We.

“Yes.” I tried to say more, but when I opened my mouth, my breathing cut me off, and I coughed.

Samantha must have been able to tell because she said, “Your dad is going to be here forever, baby. He’s not going anywhere.”

I silently thanked her, and she nodded.

“Do you have any questions?” Samantha added. “Because your daddy and I know this has to be very confusing for you. We want to know how you’re feeling, and we want you to talk to us about it.”

With her eyes on me, she put one of her fingers into her mouth, like she was thinking really hard. “What do I call you now?”

“You can call me whatever you’re most comfortable with.”

She didn’t respond right away but finally said, “How about Jack?”

“I like that,” I told her.

I didn’t expect her to immediately call me daddy, but I hoped, one day, she’d love me enough to consider it.

“I like it, too,” Samantha said.

“Mommy, can Jack move in with us?”

I quickly glanced at Samantha and watched her reply with, “Right now, we’re just going to focus on you spending as much time with Jack as possible. How does that sound?” She smiled.

So did our daughter.

“Jack, can you pick me up from school one day? And come to my swim lessons? And come watch me at ballet?”

“Yes,” I said, “to all three.”

My heart didn’t feel any more settled. If anything, that shit was racing like I’d just finished running ten goddamn miles. But I knew, while I glanced between these two gorgeous girls, that this was going to work out somehow. That this was the start of our father-daughter relationship.

And, even though I’d only just met her, I had a love for this little girl that I’d never felt before.

Lucy stood from her chair and came over to mine. Without warning, she threw her arms around my neck and tucked her small head into my chest. “I’ve always wanted a daddy. I’m so glad you found me.”