She softens, leaning her hip against the counter. “Worth… I’ve known you for years. I’ve seen you at your worst and at your best. You don’t let people in easily. This woman matters to you. I can tell.”
I don’t respond. Not because she’s wrong, but because she’s too damn close to the truth. Instead, I thank her for the advice and kiss her cheek, muttering something about checking on Brianna.
Upstairs, I knock on my daughter’s door and hear muffled giggles before the sound cuts off.
“Come in!”
I push the door open and find her sprawled across her bed, phone still in hand. Her cheeks are pink, eyes bright. She looks so grown up it makes my chest ache.
“Hey, Piglet,” I say, leaning on the doorframe. “Can we chat?”
“Of course.”
I walk over to sit on the edge of her bed. “So… Kennedy?”
Brianna groans and hides her face behind a pillow. “He’s just a friend.”
“Uh huh.” I tug the pillow down, meeting her eyes. “Listen, I don’t care if he’s just a friend or something more one day. What I care about is that he treats you with respect. You know what I mean?”
“I know, Dad. You don’t have to give me the whole lecture.”
“Yeah, I do. It’s in the Dad Handbook.”
That earns me a laugh, and I tuck a stray curl behind her ear. “Just remember, if Ken gives me a reason, I’ll show him exactly how scary a protective dad can be.”
She rolls her eyes, but I catch the small smile tugging at her lips.
“Speaking of friends,” I start, resting my forearms on my knees. “There’s someone I’d like to talk to you about.”
Brianna practically springs upright, her eyes shining. “Oh my God. Do you have a girlfriend?”
I blink. “Why do you sound so excited about it?”
“Because lately you’ve had that… thing. The thing in your steps.”
“Thething?”
“The… pep?” She squints. “The pep-up step?”
I shake my head, laughing. “Pep in your step, Peanut.”
“Whatever. You have it.” She huffs, tossing her hair over her shoulder like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Dad. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how lonely you’ve been.”
“That’s not true. I have you and Maggie.”
“Yes, but me and Maggie aren’t going to warm your bed at night, Dad.”
I choke, gasping. “Brianna! How do you even know to say something like that?”
She bursts out laughing, covering her mouth with one hand. “I’m young, but not stupid.”
“You’re growing up way too fast. It’s terrifying. Please don’t ever say that again. And for the record, you’re not allowed to have anyone warming your bed until you’re thirty-five.”
Bri rolls her eyes again. “So dramatic. That’s not the point.” Her expression turns more serious. “I just want you to have someone other than me. It’s a lot of pressure, you know, to be the only reason you’re happy.”
Her words knock the air out of me. I never thought about it that way—that my daughter might feel responsible for filling a space in my life that no kid should have to fill. I swallow, guilt prickling at the back of my throat.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” I murmur, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “I never wanted to make you feel like you had to carry that weight.”