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It's your least favorite holiday of the year.
Father's Day.
This day was always a painful reminder of what you didn't have. Everyone around you had the perfect father. You grew up in a small neighborhood, watching your friends play with their dads in the front yard; learning how to ride a bike, shoot hoops, blow bubbles. You'd sit in the driveway playing with chalk while your dad was inside, smoking a joint and yelling at your mother. All you wanted was your dad to come out and play with you. But he didn't. He never did.
Then the teen years came. The horrors of puberty; fat displaced unevenly on your body, oily, acne prone skin, braces. Flooded with hormones every single day. Confused about boys, confused about girls. The one week out of the month where you hated everyone who looked in your direction. The only thing that could have made it better was a hug from dad. He never understood you. Even called you a bitch a couple of times. You couldn't even tell him how much that hurt you because he'd just call you weak. So you learned to shut up. You learned to hide every aspect of who you were from your father.
Early adulthood was when shit really hit the fan. You developed deep, clinical bipolar depression. Horrible lows and scary highs. You still lived with your parents through college and it only made your relationship with your father worse. You could handle your mom; she was just passive aggressive as hell. You'd roll your eyes, move on, then watch a horror movie at night and guess who the killer was together. Your mom made it bearable. But when the mood swings hit, your father would get in your face and scream at you. Even headbutt you one time. You hated him and you finally had the courage to tell him.
Your father did try a little bit for sometime after. You told him that if he didn't control his anger, you'd never speak to him again. You were surprised when he told you he didn't want that. The house got a little brighter. You could playfully tease him and he wouldn't start screaming at you; he'd actually tease you back and for the first time, it was silly, not degrading like it used to be. One time you even got close enough on the couch that you rested your head on his shoulder and fell asleep. You never thought you'd ever get this close him. He never hugged you or kissed you as a kid so… this was crazy.
But it didn't last.
The anger came back. Worse this time too. Your dad was the coldest he had ever been. You had moved out when your mom finally asked for a divorce. It was the best thing you ever did. You were a semester away from graduating when you had the worst fight of your life with your father. He said things you never thought a human would be capable of feeling. Horrible, violent things. When you cried from his words, he called you weak and pathetic. You knew in that moment, it was over.
You ended contact that day.
That was five years ago.
Life was better now. You had a full time job as a nurse. You only worked three 12 hour shifts a week. It was tough work but you brought in decent money. Enough money to help your fiance put a down payment on a house. It was a charming little house; white, older, on a big plot of land in Wolf Trap, Virginia. You loved when it snowed and you played outside with the dogs. There was a river about a mile into the woods where you went fishing with your fiancé.
Your fiancé…
Will Graham.
You had met Will through a local brewery's speed dating night. Your friends begged you to try it, telling you there was definitely a good guy out there. After a lot of pushing, you caved. You sat at the table, nursing a Merlot, talking to guy after guy. No one was interesting; too loud, too brash, too arrogant, too prissy, and too pushy. You were about to leave when a beautiful stranger took the seat in front of you.
You sat back down immediately. He was gorgeous; that boy-next-door kind of gorgeous. Floofy, dark brown, curly hair. Bright blue eyes. Sharp jaw, etched with just the right amount of beard. Cute nose, small lips. His flannel was a touch too tight. When he moved, you could see his bicep muscle straining against the fabric. You decided to give him a chance.
He was perfect. He teased you; in that schoolboy way that you knew was flirting. He was a touch aggressive but in a safe, controlled way; a way that gave you full body tingles. He held eye contact, wasn't distracted by anything below your face. You felt respected. He had a grumpy air to him but he was tender with you. He listened, made you laugh, brushed your fingers with his thumb. He was the only man you gave your number to that night.
That was three years ago.
Will was perfect for you. You knew when he popped the question last year that you had to say yes. He was strong, calm, gentle, and masculine in the best way. He gave you a safety you never had before. The two of you developed a specific relationship. When your mental health was getting hard to deal with, Will came in as the caregiver. He'd let you weep into his chest. He'd let you be angry and even lash out at him. He never screamed or diminished your feelings. He listened. He'd take you to the bath, wash you, get you in pajamas, and bring you to bed, to be safe in his arms. He was your daddy; the only man who ever cared for you in the way you needed.
The two of you were in bed. You had been having a hard week listening to all your coworkers talk about their Father's Day plans. It built up in your body until you couldn't take it anymore. You snapped at Will after dinner tonight. He wasn't the least bit mad. He knew this week would be hard. He cleaned you up and brought you to bed. You're curled up in front of Will, with his arm over you and hand rubbing your back. You finally just stopped crying.
"You can talk to me, baby girl," Will murmurs, brushing your hair back.
Will keeps at it, raking his fingers against your scalp. The act soothes you.
"It's not fair…" You say softly.
"What's not fair?" Will asks curiously.
"Why didn't I get a good dad? How come everyone else gets a good dad but me? Is there something wrong with me?" You sniffle.
Will takes your chin and tilts it up. Your eyes are puffy and your lips are red. He still thinks you're the most beautiful girl in the world. "There is nothing wrong with you, sweet girl," He says sweetly. "There's something wrong with him. He didn't get the helped he needed before he became a dad. That's on him. You never did a single thing wrong to him. You were just a kid. And you deserved better."
You swallow hard. "I want to reach out but… It'll just be the same. He's never going to change."
"And that says nothing about you and everything about him, right?" Will quizzes.
"Right…"
Will rubs the back of his index finger on your cheek. "You are my sweet, perfect, little girl," He says gently. "You know you're always safe with me, right?"
"Yes," You say in a small voice.
"You know I'd never yell at you or hit you or ignore you," He tucks your hair behind your ear. "You are the most important person in the world to me. I don't just need you, I want you. You are wanted, sweet girl."
Your lip quivers and a few tears fall from your eyes. Will leans in and kisses them away. He holds the back of your head and begins to kiss all over your face. Your chin, your upper lip, your cheekbone, your temple, your forehead. He drags his nose down the bridge of your nose and repeats the motion, going up and down slowly. He rubs the tips of your noses together and kisses it.
His voice is low and warm and gravelly when he speaks, "You do have a dad, sweet girl. I'm your dad and I will always take care of you."
You let out a shaky breath, "Promise?"
"I promise," Will replies.
"You're a good dad… You make everything better, daddy," You sigh.
"Thank you for saying that, pumpkin," Will continues to rub your back. "You know, you do too. You make everything better for daddy. Every single day. I wouldn't know what I'd do without my little girl."
Your heart flutters as Will speaks. You start to feel a little better. Your voice comes out small, "Little girl?"
Will smiles and kisses the tip of your nose again. "That's right. You're my itsy bitsy, teeny weeny little girl," He says which makes you giggle. He sighs. "There's that perfect laugh. You're a perfect little girl."
You look at him and reach forward, scratching his beard gently. He takes your wrist and kisses the palm of your hand. Will looks at you seriously.
"Pumpkin, can you promise me something?" He asks.
"Anything, dad," You reply.
"I want you to promise that you will always come to your dad when you need him," Will begins. "You come to me when you're scared or sad or angry. You lean on me when you need help, okay? Your daddy loves you and always wants to help you. You are never a burden."
You exhale slowly. You're finally relaxed. "I promise, dad."
"I love you very much, princess," Will swoons. "I have an idea."
"What is it?" You ask.
"Daddy knew today would be tough so he bought your favorite gelato from the store. There's a pint of triple fudge brownie in the freezer with your name on it," Will grins. "How about you get your ice cream, you sit in my lap in the recliner and we watch your favorite movie?"
You begin to feel warm all over. Everything feels okay again. "Can I have kisses while we watch the movie?"
"Absolutely, darlin'," Will gives you a soft peck on the lips. "Will you let your dad have some ice cream?"
"Mhm," You nod. "You've been a very good dad. You deserve it."
"You too. You've been a very good, sweet girl today," Will kisses you one last time. "Now, listen to daddy and go get your treat. I'll go put the movie in the DVD player. Get two spoons, pumpkin."
"Got it," You grin. "I love you very much, dad."
"I love you too, sweet girl."