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Fuck.

The wind was back.

Sniffing away the emotion, I scratched my jaw and nodded. “When you’re a parent, you’re consciously aware that these days are ahead, destined to find you. You try to prepare, and you think you’ll be ready, but it’s not possible. These moments always seem so damn far away at the time, and then—bam. No more piggyback rides, no more swimming lessons, no more birthday cake painting the walls. It’s like I blinked and you were older.”

Tara pushed her plate aside and stared down at the table, her own eyes wet and glimmering. “Do you feel like you missed out on stuff? Being separated from Mom?”

“I feel like we did a good job of making it work. There’s sacrifice in every decision.” My teeth clenched through a tight swallow. “If we had stayed together, we would’ve been bitter and unhappy, and then other parts of our lives would have suffered. You would have resented us both.”

“I can’t imagine resenting either of you.”

I folded my hands together. “You won’t fully grasp that unless you ever experience it—which, I hope you don’t. I hope you find someone who complements you in every way, who gives you strength and courage, who fights for you tooth and nail, no matter the consequences, and who loves every single piece of you. Even the sad pieces. Even the ugly pieces you try to keep buried.”

Lost in thought, she curled a hand around her soda glass and nodded. “You guys didn’t love each other’s ugly pieces enough to stay together.”

Spinning a reply over in my mind, I glanced down at my hands, knowing that these hands weren’t capable of keeping all the pieces together sometimes. Even the beautiful ones. “You know I still have a lot of love and respect for your mother. That’ll never change. But, I think that when someone you care about betrays you, nothing can glue those broken bits back together,” I explained. “Think of that puzzle we were working on for weeks, a few years back.”

“Sure. The Mickey Mouse one.”

“Ladybug was still just a puppy and she chewed up one of the pieces. We had the whole puzzle put together, but that one piece was bent and smashed, so it never fit into the space. You were so mad. You said it would never be a perfect puzzle because of that broken piece, no matter how much I tried to flatten it out and squeeze it into place.”

The analogy flickered in her eyes, and she looked away, biting her lip.

“I’m just saying, some things are great while they last. We had fun putting the pieces together, just like your mom and I had a lot of great moments throughout our relationship. But the end result is still the same: a broken puzzle.”

Inhaling a shaky breath, she stared out the window, fisting her hands together in her lap. “Yeah, I get that. I guess I had it in my head that you two still loved each other and wanted to try again.”

“That love is a residual feeling built around you.”

“Makes sense,” she said. “Halley thought I was reading into things. Apparently, she was right.” Shrugging, she sent me a sheepish smile. “I just want you to be happy. Both of you. You guys are always working, always alone. Is there someone else?”

My chest buckled at the question.

Muscles locking, heart jumping, I squeezed my hands together and blinked across the table. I wasn’t able to hold back the brief flare of my eyes, nor the truth that flashed inside of them.

Her dark brows lifted with intrigue. She gasped. “There is. Who is she?”

“Nobody.” I’d said it too quickly, my voice drowning in treacherous grit. “There’s no one.”

“You’re such a liar.”

“I’m not with anybody, Tara.”

It was partly true. Halley and I weren’t together—not really. We were just having sex, and that came with an expiration date.

Wrinkling her nose, she blew a piece of hair out of her eyes then swatted it back. Her focus thinned as she gazed out the window, stewing in the implication that I’d been ill-prepared to hide. “You can tell me, you know. It won’t break me.”

She had no idea how wrong she was.

I propped my chin on my cupped hands, my elbows digging into the table almost as hard as my teeth were digging into the inner lining of my cheek. “I know.”

“I’ll support you, no matter who she is.”

My eyes fell shut as white-hot guilt filtered through my bloodstream, a sickly feeling that had my veins shriveling and my heart rotting a hole in my chest. “You know I love you more than anything, right?” I confessed, my voice hitching with a devastating crack.

I needed to say it. I needed her to know.

Tara blinked back over at me, her cheeks glowing pink, and her gaze widening at the emotion pouring out of me. “Of course I know.” She reached for my hand over the table and squeezed. “I love you, too. You’re kind of the best dad ever.”