Page 81 of Last Comes Fate

Our daughter, bless her heart, did not notice a thing while she debated the relative magic of a unicorn horn versus a fairy wand and offered the occasional rendition of “Bastard Babes.” Although I came close to doubting myself when I overheard a conversation they had right before bed.

I was bringing up a load of clean towels when I found Xavier in her room, balanced on a pillow on one side of Sofia’s lilac-colored table and chair set while she set the room up for an impromptu tea party.

“What about me?” Xavier was asking. “I want a crown. I can’t be a princess too?”

Sofia just giggled. “No, Dad. You’re the prince, I told you.” She cocked her little head. “But here. I can give you wings so you can be a fairy prince.”

There was some shuffling, but when I peeked in a few moments later, Xavier had somehow managed to hang Sofia’s rainbow fairy wings over his massive shoulders along with a purple cape and a plastic tiara gleaming from his black waves. He calmed drank his pretend tea while Sofia put on her own costume.

Oh, my heart.

I ducked back out, stifling my own giggle, and was about to leave when I caught the next thing Xavier said.

“You know those are just movies, right, babe?” He asked her gently. “Princes don’t really exist like that. And little girls don’t have to wait for someone to rescue them, right?”

I tried back just to find Sofia giving him a long look I’d seen in the mirror more than once.

“You rescued Mommy.”

“Did I? Not so sure about that.”

The dejection in his voice made my heart sink.

“Well, the prince always makes mistakes before he makes it right. Everyone make mistakes, Dad. You just have to say you’re sorry and try harder next time.”

There was a long silence filled by the sounds of Sofia “pouring tea” for the other tea party attendants, which appeared to be a large Kermit the Frog, a bear she always stole from Matthew’s room, and, of course, Tyrone the unicorn.

“Cheers, Dad,” he told him.

“Cheers,” Xavier replied. Then, a few moments of pretend sipping later: “I love you, baby girl. You know that too, right?”

“Yep, I know,” Sofia said cheerily. “But what about Mama?”

“What about Mummy?”

“Don’t you love her?”

There was a long pause. I should have walked away.

“Yeah.” Xavier’s deep voice was barely audible, but it still drifted across the room. “Yeah, babe, I love her a lot.”

“Good. She loves you too.”

“I’m not so sure about that one, babe. But we get on just fine.”

“No, she definitely loves you,” Sofia said. “Because whenever she sees your flowers, her eyes get all misty like the rain and she says, ‘that damn man!’ Same as when Zio lets us use his car or pays her bills. It means she loves him. She told me. So that means she loves you too.”

There was a low chuckle, but no other reply.

“Just say you’re sorry,” Sofia told him again. “It always works for me. Then she gives me a hug and sometimes makes me hot chocolate too. The kind with the little marshmallows. They’re really good.”

* * *

When I came back downstairsfrom putting Sofia to sleep, Xavier hadn’t retreated to his lair but was mulling on the back porch, swirling a glass of brown liquid like he was hypnotizing himself with it. A floorboard creaked as I went out to join him, carrying a can of La Croix and a heavy wool blanket.

I scrunched my ponytail with one hand and pushed the other over my face, stifling a yawn. “She’s finally down. I nearly went with her.”

He was quiet while I opened the La Croix and took a seat at the little table before covering my shoulders with the blanket. I figured I’d just address the elephant in the room—or the deck—head-on.

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