The next day, I filed for divorce.
We began paternity testing a few days later, but the truth is, I don’t care about the results. She’s my daughter. I’ve raised her, held her through fevers, danced with her in the kitchen. She’s mine.
Last night, Lily hang back bed beside me.
“Yeah, baby?”
“I don’t want to play that game again.”
“Me neither. I’m sorry, my baby, you’ll never deal with again.”
She gazed up at me, her eyes wide and honest.
“Are you still my real daddy?”
I didn’t falter.
“I always have been. I always will be.”
She bobbed and rested her head on my chest.
