"And if he does?"
"Then I'll deal with it. The same way I've been dealing with everything else."
Dad turned to look at me then, really look at me. "You're stronger than I gave you credit for."
"I had to be."
"I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry that my trying to protect you made it so you had to protect yourself."
The apology broke something open inside me. Three years of carrying this secret, of feeling like I'd disappointed him, of believing I'd failed as a daughter—it all came pouring out in tears I couldn't control.
"I'm sorry too," I sobbed. "I'm sorry I was such a coward."
"You weren't a coward. You were scared."
"I was both."
He pulled me into his arms then, the first real hug we'd shared since the night he'd discovered the truth about Duncan. I buried my face in his shoulder and cried for everything we'd lost, everything we'd missed, everything we were trying to rebuild.
"I love you, Ivy," he whispered into my hair. "I've never stopped loving you."
"I love you too, Dad."
When I finally pulled back, we were both wiping tears from our faces.
"So where do we go from here?" I asked.
"I don't know. But I want to try. I want to fix things between us, and I want to find a way to accept Duncan in our lives."
"It's going to take time." I smiled through my tears. "And you're going to have to stop giving him death glares every time he comes to pick up the kids."
He laughed, the sound rusty but genuine. "I make no promises about that."
The triplets tackledme the moment I walked through the door, their squeals of excitement filling the entryway. I scooped up Elena while Sammy and Chrissy wrapped themselves around my legs, all of them talking at once about their morning adventures.
"Mama, Mama! Duncan made pancakes shaped like animals!"
"Mine was a elephant!"
"Mine was a dinosaur!"
"What was yours, Elena?" I asked, kissing her cheek.
"Circle," she said seriously, making me laugh.
I followed the scent of vanilla and butter into the kitchen, where I found Duncan standing at the stove, shirtless and flipping pancakes with the concentration of a surgeon. His hair was mussed from a rough day, and there was a smudge of batter on his shoulder.
"Good morning," I said, setting Elena in her high chair.
He turned to smile at me, and the warmth in his expression made my chest tight. "How did it go?"
"Better than I expected. He wants to try."
"That's good."
"He's still angry with you."
"I expected that," Duncan grumbled and I sense his disappointment.