The moment he saw her, his expression softened.
“There’s my girl.”
He touched her little hand.
Sophie wrapped her fingers around his.
And he smiled.
A real smile.
That hurt in a different way.
Because I suddenly understood that someone could betray his wife and still feel genuine affection for his daughter.
I wanted everything to be simple.
I wanted to think of him as entirely cruel.
But the man standing before me was also the father who made our baby laugh by tapping her little socks and making silly noises.
Both things were true.
And somehow, I had to figure out what to do with that.
“I’m going upstairs,” I said.
He looked surprised.
“Already?”
“I’m exhausted. Sophie needs another bottle at eleven. Can you handle it?”
He hesitated.
“Me?”
“There’s milk in the refrigerator.”
He frowned.
“I know how to feed my daughter.”
“Good.”
