Page 87 of Mistletoe & Magic
“They’d think you were the bravest, most unselfish person for doing that,” I say, my voice rough. Telling her this and putting into words something that I could never wrap my head around as a father is hard. But they need to be said because I think deep down this is the best for both of them. She needs to let Junie go. She needs to let go of the expectations and hurt that she’s only going to continue to cause.
I continue, “They’d think you gave her a chance to grow up without wondering why she isn’t enough for you.”
A tear slips down her cheek, and she swipes it away fast. “I tried, Remy. I swear to God I tried. I thought I could do it, but every time I think I’m ready, I choke. I freeze. I cannot be who she needs me to be.”
The words hurt, but there is something freeing in hearing her say them. And I would much rather have her tell me thisnow so that we can move forward accordingly so this never has to be a conversation that my five-year-old has with her.
“Then let her have that with someone else,” I say gently. “Let her have the chance to be loved by a mom who chooses her every single day.”
She turns and looks out the window, another tear slipping down her cheek. She turns back to me and looks relieved and sad at the same time. She nods once, then again, slower. Her fingers twist together. “How does this work? Do you need money?”
I shake my head. “No. I don’t need money, Sloane. I just need you to sign the papers. For Junie.”
She stares out the window for a long time, the city reflected in her glassy eyes. Finally she nods. “I’ll have them drawn up. Come back in an hour?”
Relief hits me so hard I almost sag in the chair. “Yeah. You’re doing the right thing.”
Her lips tremble. “You’re a good dad. I wish I could be like you. Tell her I’m sorry.”
I stand slowly. “I know. I’ll come back.”
Outside, the air feels sharper, almost clean. I shove my hands into my coat pockets and walk aimlessly until I find myself near an old coffee shop I used to go to back when I worked cases late into the night.
I buy a black coffee and sit outside at a little metal table, watching the city rush around me. The noise is constant with buses rumbling past, people shouting into phones, car horns blaring, but it all feels far away. Like I’m watching a movie and not a part of this.
I take a slow sip of coffee and let myself really think.I used to think this was what I wanted. The city. The suits. The grind. The idea of being someone important in a place that never sleeps.
But sitting here now, I don’t miss any of it.
I miss the tree farm with the smell of fresh pine and sawdust. The sound of Junie’s laughter echoing through the house. Ivy’s hair loose over her shoulders, the soft sound she makes when I pull her close.
I miss coming home to them and asking how their days went. I miss the small things like new pictures Junie drew on the fridge, proudly on display. I miss seeing what new crafts Junie and Ivy have been working on.
Today isn’t as much about Ivy, but more about Junie. It’s doing what needs to be done so that Junie can be free of being let down continuously. And not have her mom randomly showing up and upsetting her. Junie will probably have a lot of questions someday when she’s older and fully understands the situation. But I know in my gut this needs to happen.
I don’t know whether Ivy will come back. I don’t know if I can fix what I broke between us.
But I am damn sure going to try.
When I get back to Sloane’s office, the papers are ready. She hands them across the desk, her fingers trembling.
“Here,” she says quietly.
I look them over, then meet her gaze.
“Can I still check in sometimes?” she asks. “Just email. I won’t bother her. I just… want to know how she’s doing.”
“Yes,” I say. “Of course you can.”
She nods, takes a deep breath, and stands. “Oh, and Remy?”
I glance back.
“What did you do to Derek? He’s terrified of you.”
I shrug. “No clue. Don’t really know the guy.”
For the first time, she smiles just a little, then says. “Take care of her.”
