“Mr. Patterson, we need to speak with you separately.”
He wiped his face.
“Can I kiss her first?”
I looked at Emma.
Then at him.
Everything in me wanted to say no.
But I also knew Emma loved him.
And my anger, no matter how righteous, could not become another tool adults used to tear pieces out of her.
“Don’t wake her,” I said.
He approached the bed.
Slowly.
Like a stranger.
He bent down and kissed her hair.
Emma stirred.
Her eyes opened halfway.
“Daddy?”
He broke.
Right there.
A quiet sob escaped him.
“I’m here, baby.”
Her face tightened.
“Don’t let Grandma give me the bad pills.”
His knees nearly buckled.
