Page 87 of Daddy Erik
Her eyes fill. “I do,” she whispers. “I really do.” And I hold her tighter.
LEIF
From across the room, Mara watches them, Erik with Claire held gently in his lap, Claire leaning into him like she trusts him with every breath.
Mara murmurs, “I’d like that… someday.”
“What’s that, little bunny?” I ask softly. She startles at the nickname but doesn’t tell me to stop.
She whispers, “Someone who keeps me safe.”
I smile.
“I can handle that." Her breath shivers as she leans a little closer to me, and my heart feels like it’s going to explode.
CLAIRE
Later, after dessert, after feeling normal for the first time in forever… I press my lips to Erik’s neck and whisper, “Daddy… thank you for tonight.”
His arms tighten around me. “I’d do anything for you. Anything.”
And for the first time since the nightmare, I believe nothing can touch me as long as I’m in his arms.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CLAIRE
One month later and my world looks entirely different. Freya is nearly twelve weeks old now, round-cheeked, soft-haired, and obsessed with staring at ceiling fans as if they’re constellations.
Grace has slipped into motherhood like she was born for it, and she moves with this serene glow that makes the entire room feel safer.
I spend most of my days near her, typing orders for the bookstore from her couch while she rocks Freya and tells me breastfeeding horror stories that make us both giggle.
But on the days I’m not here, I’m with Erik. Because Erik has given me a new kind of sanctuary. Alittle Cornerin his office at Halvorsen Corp. There’s a soft carpet and a lavender beanbag, small art supplies, a plush otter, and a little white shelf labeled “Claire’s Space.”
Erik made it with his hands and painted it himself. He told the entire executive team that anyone who mocked it would be “reassigned to Antarctica.”
He wasn’t joking. Every time I sit there, knees tucked under me, coloring while he works, I feel the safest I’ve ever felt. MyDaddymakes me feel safe.
My heart warms every time I say it now.Daddy.The word began in a hospital bed, shaken loose from a place of fear. The word that has grown into something tender and chosen.
Today, I’m sitting in his office corner, typing up online orders while humming softly. Erik glances at me every few minutes, like he still can’t believe I’m actually here. Like he still expects me to disappear.
ERIK
Time hasn’t eased the memories. Her oversized breasts strapped into that machine. The faint chemical smell of sedation floating off her like smoke. There are nights when I still wake up shaking. And then Claire shifts closer to me, hand pressing over my heart, and whispers, “Daddy, I’m here.”
She anchors me. Just like I anchor her. Healing isn’t a straight line, Dr. Alvarez keeps saying. It spirals. It circles. It revisits old wounds until the body finally believes the danger is gone.
So I added anotherlittle Corner.This one in our loft. Soft blankets, a reading nook, soft fairy lights, and a pillow shaped like a sunflower.
She crawls into it whenever her chest begins to tighten, and I sit beside her until the tremors fade. Some days she sits in my lap while she pumps, quietly, calmly, with no shame at all.
We chose a silent portable pump. No tube or straps, just softness that eases that internal tension. And I will always give her what she needs.
CLAIRE
Grace’s front door flies open as I arrive for our weekly lunch visit. “Claire!” Grace grins. “Get in here. Freya just passed a monumental poop, and I refuse to face the aftermath alone.”
