Page 5 of Coming Up Roses

I’m under no illusions that I’m the best person for Sadie, but I’ll try my damn hardest to repair what I broke.

I park beside Katie’s car and Dallas appears around the side of the house. I take a few deep breaths and climb out of the car before another panic attack has a chance to take hold. I can’t believe Flynn walked in on my one back at the office, and although his arrival had snapped me out of it, I still wish he hadn’t seen it.

I wish no one had seen it.

Not worth stressing it about now. I’ll save that anxiety spiral for tonight, when I’m alone in the dark.

“Hey. You ready for this?” Dallas asks as I approach him.

I want to say no. I want to disappear again. I knew seeing Sadie again would be hard. I didn’t realise I’d want to throw up, run away, hide and cry, all at once.

I square my shoulders and stand tall. “Yep,” I say. “How is she?”

“She’s excited. She wants to show you the garden she’s planting.”

Oh. That’s sweet. I don’t know how to reply, so I keep my mouth shut as I follow Dallas around the house. There’s a small lawn and an even tinier porch with a cozy looking outdoor chair taking up the majority of the space. At the end of the lawn are two raised garden beds and leaning over one, carefully inspecting the soil, is a little girl with two lopsided braids in her blonde hair.

She’s wearing a flannel shirt with a tulle skirt and tiny pink gumboots. I love everything about her.

“Hey, Sadie girl. Someone’s here to see you,” Dallas says softly as we approach her.

My daughter spins around, her blue eyes—just like her dad’s—widen as she takes me in.

“Hi, Sadie,” I say, my voice coming out choked. “It’s really nice to see you.”

“Hi,” she whispers, then chews on her bottom lip. Her gaze drops from me and focusses on the ground. She kicks a boot in the grass.

Silence extends between the three of us, the tension growing so taut it feels like the world could shatter with one wrong move.

Dallas gestures towards Sadie, encouraging me.

I take a wobbly step forward. These shoes are not designed for grass, or emotional meetings with your estranged five-year-old. I clear my throat. “What are you planting?” I ask, voice wobbling as much as my ankles.

“Vegetables,” Sadie says. “Daddy says they’re important.” She pulls a face. “Do you like vegetables?”

“Some of them,” I say, taking another step. “I like carrots, but I don’t like cauliflower very much.”

“Do you still have to eat it?”

“Sometimes.”

She ponders that for a moment, then points to a couple of tiny seedlings. “Those two are cauliflower but I won’t make you eat them. Dad canhave them.”

I smile. “Sounds like a good deal. What’s your favourite vegetable?”

I can’t believe I’m having a conversation about vegetables with my daughter.

I can’t believe I’m having a conversation with her at all.

“I like carrots. They’re Scout’s favourite too.”

“Scout must have good taste then.”

Sadie nods. “Do you want to meet her?”

“Uh.” I glance at Dallas, hoping he can read the confusion on my face. Who the heck is Scout and why would I want to meet her right now?

“Maybe you should tell Ab—uh, your m—. Maybe you should explain who Scout is.”

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