Page 120 of Claimed By My Ex's Dad
“It’s true.” Joy walks into the room, rubbing sleep from her eye. She’s wearing one of my shirts. It drapes all the way down to her knees.
“And you didn’t think to tell me.”
“Four days,” she reiterates, folding her arms over her chest.
Fair enough.
“Miss Joy has beautiful designs.”
My chest feels fuzzy as I admire the sensational woman before me, the one who grew our daughter and broke into the fashion market, all at once.
Joy flashes me a look. “Don’t say it.”
“I don’t need to,” I tease. “I already told you I saw potential. It just took you a while to open your eyes and see it for yourself.”
Joy takes Hope from Igor, cradling our daughter in her arms.
I return to the eggs, which are burnt, a thread of smoke coming from underneath the pan.
“It best if I take over,” says Galina, stepping in to rescue the eggs.
“That won’t be necessary.”
“We’re eating charred eggs otherwise, Mr. Valerian.” Galina takes the spatula from me, pressing a button on the top of the stove—the extractor fan, I think it’s called. “The kitchen is my place. Yours is down the side alley, making people pay for their sins.”
“From what I heard earlier, his place is in the bedroom,” huffs Igor, the chair scraping on the floor as he rises from the table. He turns to Joy on his way out, lowering his voice so only she can hear. “I’m sorry for what I did.” He pauses. “It never occurred to me at the time that you could have gone to prison. I was careless, only thinking of myself.” He glances briefly in my direction, looking back at her. “I’m glad my father found you.”
“Me too,” says Joy, flashing Igor one last smile before he disappears down the corridors.
Time slows down as Joy and I share eye contact across the kitchen.
If there was even a slimmest chance I could get this woman back into my life, I was gonna take it.
If she didn’t show up today for my funeral, I was tempted to put a bullet through my own heart to save myself from the heartbreak of never getting to look into her eyes again and meet my daughter.
I have Igor, but a part of me will always cling onto the guilt for what I put him through.
Joy and Hope will always be my clean slate. And I fear their absence in my life will revert me back to the man I used to be.
Without them, I’d be tangled back up in hatred, since hate is an easier emotion to feel than the raw pain that comes with losing someone you love.
“Eggs are ready,” announces Galina, setting the table for us.
I sit across from Joy, pick up the knife and fork, and tuck into the rest of my life.
The End.
