I glance over to see Corin assisting Layla so she can hold Hope. We’ve decided she’s going by her middle name—like her father. My career will have us moving around a lot and I don’t want guys using 80’s music lyrics as a way to charm their way into the new girl’s pants. Suddenly I hate every single person with a dick on the planet. Layla’s propped up and looking more alert than I expected while Kate and my mom take pictures.
God she’s so damn beautiful.
“Well, I’ll let you get back,” T“Well, I’ll let you get back,” ts he’r some odd reason :)t erring to her at this moment. But, if you want to leave it as it is the Colonel tells me, gesturing towards my daughter and soon-to-be wife. “Good seeing you…son.”
He nods, and so do I. “Yeah. Thanks.”
He looks so…sad. Looking at him, I see a version of myself. The one I likely would have become if not for Layla. I feel bereft, but what else is there to say?
“Landen.” I hear Layla call my name softly, but firmly, from across the room. She tilts her head towards The Colonel’s retreating figure, and I know what she’s reminding me of. You don’t measure love in the number of chances you’re willing to give someone. Love doesn’t run out of chances.
God knows she’s given me more than I deserve.
“Colonel? Um, dad?” I call out.
“Yes?” He turns back around to face me with his brows raised.
I shift on my feet. “Do you maybe want to hold her? Get a picture for the baby book? Since you came all this way, I mean.”
A smile transforms my father’s face into a version of him I can’t remember ever seeing before. “I would like that, very much, yes.”
And somehow, some way, Layla has given me everything I’ve ever wanted and didn’t know I needed. That girl, that beautiful girl who floated through the halls like an unseen angel, who suffered such a devastating loss before I met her, has touched my life, brightened it, formed it. Made it worth living and helped me to focus on living it instead of punishing myself.
She gave me the strength to forgive. Kept me still when I was weak and stupid, when I lost my temper, when I got scared and ran and nearly made the biggest mistake of my life. And I vow, here and now, watching everyone fall in love with my perfect daughter before my very eyes, to never take a single second for granted. If Layla’s surgery went as well as they say, she won’t need me to keep her still anymore.
But it doesn’t matter. I’m still keeping her forever.
“Daddy!Daddy!Did you see me? That’s five! I beat my record!”
I watch my daughter run off the field to her father, her dark ponytail flying behind her. My husband drops his clipboard and lifts her into his arms. My heart swells with happiness as the love between them cocoons them in a private celebration.
“Mommy, did you see? Did you get it?”
I press the pause button and lower the video camera. “I got it, sweetie. Way to go, superstar!” I high-five her and stand on my tippy-toes for a kiss. She’s a head above me in her father’s arms.
“No kiss for the coach?” my husband asks, his green eyes gleaming with mischief.
“Hmm…okay. You’re a superstar too, honey.” I wink and make a kissy face just before his lips graze mine. Even after five years of marriage, a tingling sensation from his touch still overwhelms me.
“I’ll show you superstar,” he murmurs into my ear. For a moment, I’m lightheaded from his words.
“Landen! This is a family place!” I slap his arm playfully and reach up to tickle Hope. He grins as our daughter giggles before launching into her play-by-play recap of the soccer game we just watched.
“Can we go get ice cream now? I get extra sprinkles, Daddy. You promised!” Hope forces him to meet her gaze as he confirms he’s going to follow through.
“Yes, ma’am. Extra sprinkles it is. And if Mommy is a good girl, she can have extra cherries.”
I almost drop the video camera. And Hope’s soccer bag. I clear my throat as we walk to the car. “Behave yourself, Coach.”
“Never,” he mouths, waggling his eyebrows at me.
I roll my eyes, even though anticipation coils tightly in my belly. Watching him fasten our daughter in her booster seat, I can’t help but ogle his muscular backside. Later, when Hope’s been bathed, and stories have been read, and she’s asleep and the house is still and quiet, I know he’ll make good on his promise to me as well.
He stands and closes her door. “Speaking of behaving yourself, I think you’ve got some drool there, Mrs. O’Brien.” He grins, and I shake my head and step around to my side of our SUV. It’s been almost five years since I’ve had an episode. As far as we know my surgery was a success, but I still don’t drive—just in case.
We pull out of the parking lot and I glance around at the other families leaving. I can’t help but wonder if everyone is as lucky as us. If they realize what a gift life is. How fortunate they are to be alive and healthy and able to come watch their able-bodied children play a game they enjoy.
“Grandma and Grandpa were there. I saw them. Grandpa waved to me,” our daughter chirps from the backseat.
