The door to the clinic swings open, and a woman holding tightly to the leash of a Great Dane walks in. She struggles to control the dog as it rushes at me with its tail wagging.
Just as it tries to jump up to greet me, another vet assistant races around the corner.
Bianca looks at me. “I think I should go.”
That’s the last thing I want, but I sense it’s exactly what she needs. My heart is twisting inside my chest, but I nod even though I want to fall to my knees and plead with her to give me more time to explain.
With the Great Dane owner trying to calm her dog, and the vet assistant telling her Matt will see them shortly, I watch Bianca walk out of the clinic.
***
“You’re not a fucking mind reader.” Matt taps the center of my forehead. “You have no idea what Bianca is thinking, so knock it off.”
His gaze bounces between my face and the spot on the waiting room sofa where my two girls are sitting as they pet a dog.
As soon as Matt, Dora and Georgie came storming out of an exam room, I was waiting with a smile.
I can’t let my daughters see how torn up I am. I’m their hero. I’ve always kept my emotions in check in front of them, even when they’ve asked me repeatedly why they don’t have a mommy.
I thought they would, but not everything goes to plan.
“Daddy!” Dora calls from where she’s sitting. “Uncle Matty gave Buggy a big band-aid.”
I hold back a laugh at the amount of gauze wrapped around the stuffed bunny’s head. “He’s the best of the best.”
Georgie waves an orange balloon animal at me. “He made me this.”
“That dog has a hell of a long neck,” I say under my breath. “You need to get your eyes checked, old man.”
Matt was born ten minutes before me, so he’s always been the butt of my jokes.
“It’s a giraffe, asshole, “ he whispers before he offers me a broad smile. “It’s not like you can do any better.”
He’s right. I can’t. I provide everything I can to my daughters so they have a life that’s comfortable but not extravagant.
Matt provides just as much love and understanding as I do. The bonus he brings to the table is whatever fun he can dream up.
This month it’s balloon animals.
Last month, he used washable markers to create a mural in the girls’ playroom that they’ve been adding to ever since.
I couldn’t have been the father that I am without him.
“Can I get one too?” A young brown-haired boy asks as he approaches us. “Can you make me a walrus too, Doctor H?”
I elbow my brother. “Make him a walrus just like the one you made Georgie.”
Matt runs a hand over the little guy’s head. “You bet. Just give me a minute to finish this conversation.”
The little boy’s gaze volleys between us. “Is he your clone?”
Matt laughs. “Twin.”
The boy shrugs a shoulder before taking off in a sprint back to his father and the dog they brought in.
My brother turns to face me. “Give Bianca a day or two to process everything, then reach out to her.”
That was my plan, but I considered cutting the day or two down to a few hours.
“She cares about you.” He pats my cheek. “There’s no way in hell that I’m wrong about this.”
I trust him. I always have, so I’ll be as patient as I can while I wait to hear from the only woman I’ve ever loved.
Chapter 40
Bianca
I sit on the edge of the bed and stare at the photograph in my hands. It’s not pristine. The edges are curled, and there’s a small rip in one corner. That happened one night years ago when Vivi wouldn’t let it go.
We argued, I tugged at it, and at the end of our battle, I had the smallest piece of it in between my fingers, and Vivi had tears streaming down her face.
She’s always told me that I’m the lucky one because I have memories of our dad. I do, but they’re fading with each passing day.
I used to remember the smell of his cologne, but that’s not the case anymore.
I held onto the sound of his voice for as long as I could, but it’s been drowned out by time.
I trace a fingertip over my dad’s face in the photo. He was handsome with his strong jawline and his dark brown hair. I’ve always been grateful that I was blessed with the same blue eyes he had.
When I look in the mirror, I’m sometimes hit with the memory of how he used to look at me. It was with pride when I first learned how to ride a two-wheel bike, and it was with sorrow when he told us that our mom had to be in the hospital for an operation.