Her face turns into an instant pout. There’s something about the sad look on her face that has my heart clenching. There’s an urge to run and get her the shitty McDonald’s food she seems to love so much just to take that ache away. Christ, what is happening to me?
“I ordered pizza,” I tell her, hoping it would make up for the greasy fast food.
“With pepperoni?”
“Is there any other way?”
She smiles broadly. After a few more minutes, I tear Amelia away from her space to give her a tour of the rest of the house. She nods in acceptance at each room. The minute we step into the living room, her eyes become huge.
“Is this a movie theater?” she asks, referencing the massive television on the wall. It was a slight upgrade from the one that was here the last time Amelia visited.
“Not quite, but it looks like it, huh?”
Her head bobs up and down, her pigtails bouncing. “Can we watch a movie after dinner?”
“Sure. Any suggestions?”
“Encanto,” she cheers out before singing a song about some guy named Bruno.
She runs through the house at top speed, and I chase her, creating an impromptu game of tag. Laughter flows through the air, and I honestly don’t know if I’ve ever experienced something more pure or joyful.
For the first time in months, I feel truly relaxed and happy. Just as I’m about to reach her and scoop her into my arms, the doorbell rings.
“Dinner.” Amelia takes off for the door.
“Hold up. No answering the door unless I’m with you, understand?”
Her mouth turns to a frown, but she nods. When I join her at the door, she reaches for the handle and pulls it open.
I pay for the pizza, and we make our way into the kitchen.
“Ryder?” her soft voice turns my name into a question.
I wonder where the change came from. Why she’s calling me Ryder when before she had called me daddy.
“Yeah?”
“Are you sad that you’re my daddy?”
Her question feels like a punch to the gut. It’s the reason she used my name rather than calling me daddy. Had I done something to make her think that? If I did, what in the hell was it, so I never do it again?
“What would make you ask that?”
“I overheard Grandma talking with one of her friends, Joanie. Joanie said you might not want me.”
“Oh, Amelia.” I open my arms, inviting her into my lap. She climbs up, and I squeeze her tightly. “Can I tell you the truth?”
She looks a little fearful but nods.
“I’m scared.”
“You’re scared? Of what?”
“All of it. I’m afraid you won’t like me. I’m afraid I won’t be a good dad. Like you, I was raised by my grandma. I worry I don’t really know what it’s like to be a dad.”
Amelia smiles up at me, pleased to know that she’s not the only one with fears.
“I was worried you wouldn’t like me and wouldn’t want to be my dad.”