"I'm not a doctor, silly. I'm only a little girl. But I’ve been sick lots and I know sometimes when you're very sick, you need to rest. And I can tell from your eyes that you need to rest." She prods beneath her eyes. "You've got tired eyes, Daddy."
He sighs a laugh. "You might be right, Lizzy-Bean, you just might be right. But I never got my kisses and squeezes. That's what'll make me all better the fastest."
Lizzy lets out a hysterically adult-sounding sigh of long-suffering. "Oh, all right. But not too many. You need to save your energy. So only…" she taps her forehead with her wand. "Four kisses and four squeezes. You mustn’t overdo it."
"Deal. Now get back up here and deliver my kisses and squeezes, you little negotiator, you." Rush hauls her up one-handed, hiding a wince of pain.
I'd expected him to shower her with playful kisses and faux-aggressive hugs, but he doesn't. Each kiss is delicate and soft and tender—one to her left cheek, one to her right, one to her forehead, and one to the tip of her chin. And each hug, in the same way, is savored. Gentle. He visibly cherishes each one.
I'm not crying, you're crying.
The last hug is the longest, ending with Eliza whispering in Rush’s ear that she loves him the very most. Richard and Evelyn escort her out, then, and the sound of her voice chattering on fades into the distance.
Rush sags against the bed, exhaustion washing over him in a visible wave. His eyes, closed, are wet with tears.
"Rush," I whisper. "Don't."
He shakes his head. "She understands things she shouldn't have to. God, I'm a shit father."
My bark of laughter is one of utter disbelief, earning me a sharp look from Rush.
"What the fuck are you laughing about?" he demands, ready to be angry at me.
"Rush," I answer, taking his hands in mine. "Nothing could be further from the truth."
He frowns at me, clearly not believing me. "How you figure that?"
"Well…I have to admit, I was shocked to find out you had a daughter. And I…" I sigh. "I have to further admit that I assumed you'd be…"
He arches an eyebrow. "Out with it, then. I'd be what?"
"A deadbeat. Or, at least, absent."
"Well, I have been absent a lot."
I hold his eyes. "Rush, I was so wrong about you. It couldn't be any more obvious that you love that little girl with everything you are. You'd do anything for her. And she loves you just as much. She sees you, Rush. I see you."
Swallowing hard, he shakes his head, looks away. "She's my little girl. You seen her, aintcha? How could you not love her?"
"Rush, you're missing my point."
He locks eyes with me, his wary and hard. "What's your point, then?"
“The whole bad boy thing you've got going on? Underneath that, underneath the whole street kid, orphan, operator, badass thing, you're a sweetheart. You're kind. You're sweet. You're affectionate. You're full of love, Rush. You're fundamentally good. I just…I think you just don't see it. Because no one's ever told you."
He shakes his head. "I'm not."
It's my turn to cock an eyebrow at him. "Are you really gonna argue with me about this?"
"Bryn, did you forget how we met?"
"Of course not. But I'm capable of picking up on things called nuance, Rush. We’ve been over what happened, why you did what you did. And I’ve forgiven you, I understand, and I'm moving on. You need to do the same. You need to forgive yourself. For that—and for everything. You're a great father, you're a good man, and I'm in love with you."
He rubs his eyes with his hand. "Dry in here."
I laugh. "Yeah, that's it. Big, tough Rush doesn't get emotional."
"Glad you get it." He groans raggedly. "Fuck. I love you, Bryn. I do. I just…what if I…what I'm not what you think?"
