Page 7 of Forfeits

I sat down on the bed in my boxer briefs and picked up the photo of Daniel that I kept on my bedside table.

“You would love that place,” I said, talking as if he were in front of me and not six feet underground in the Capital Gardens Cemetery. “I wish it had been there before you…”

I blinked, thinking I had more tears to shed over the loss of my husband and partner and co-parent. But there was nothing. Only a memory that came to me of holding Lucy for the first time. Lucy, our daughter, who was now my number-one priority, and meant I didn’t have time to go gallivanting around to kink clubs or even to find someone to share a pleasant meal with.

The loneliness of my current existence hit me all of a sudden, but I pushed it away and thought back to that incredible moment twelve years earlier.

“My God,” I said, as Daniel placed our baby in my arms. “She’s so beautiful!”

I blinked back tears as I stared at our daughter’s—our daughter’s!— perfect face.

“She does have my genes,” Daniel said, touching his fingertip to her cheek. “Of course she’s beautiful.”

I nodded, at a loss for words. She was so tiny and miraculous! I thanked the universe for Daniel, for our surrogate, Tamara, and for a world that allowed us to experience parenthood the way we wanted. It hadn’t been easy, but Daniel had wanted a child so badly and I loved him so much, and even though I was scared of the responsibility of guarding and guiding a new life, I’d been a hundred percent on board.

“So…what do you think? Do you still want to go with ‘Riley’?”

“I don’t know. She looks more like a ‘Lucy’.”

Daniel rolled his eyes. “So traditional.”

“But everyone’s naming their kids ‘Riley’ these days. ’Lucy’ may be kind of traditional but it’s not common.”

“Lucy, huh,” Daniel said, moving the cloth of the hospital blanket so he could see our daughter’s face. “All right, then.”

As it always did, my gut clenched at these heartwarming memories, and now the tears threatened. I sighed and stood, blinking them back, and got dressed.

Chapter Two

Him

I had to take Lucy to the dentist the next day, so I spent the morning editing on my laptop at home, taking the dogs for their lunchtime walk, then drove to the school to pick her up. The office was quiet except for the subdued tapping of Kate, the office administrator, on her keyboard, and the hum of the printer and photocopier. One glum-faced child of about six sat in a chair, crossing and uncrossing their ankles and shifting from side to side.

“Hello, Mr. Marin,” Kate said, glancing up from her typing. “Do you need Lucy?”

“Hi, Kate. Yes, please. Dentist.”

She picked up the phone beside her and pressed a few buttons, then waited.

“Aiden, can you please send Lucy to the office? Her dad is here. She has a dental appointment… Thank you.”

Kate hung up and smiled at me. “She’s on her way.”

“Perfect.”

I sat in one of the chairs and pulled out my phone, tapping on the CBC news app and girding myself for all of the unwelcome but needed information that I was about to access.

After several moments, Lucy opened the door to the office and came in with her backpack and umbrella.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Hey, Lucy.”

“Is it still raining?” she asked, trying to see out of the office window.

“No, I don’t think so,” I said, standing and shoving my phone in my back pocket. I took the umbrella from her.

“Do I have to go to the dentist?” Lucy asked.

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