Page 196 of Over the Line

“I’m sorry,” I said again. “Ally, I… I don’t even know how to tell you how sorry I am. We never wanted⁠—”

“I know you didn’t,” she said, her voice a bit more even now. “I… I think that’s why I decided to do this. Chris was trying to talk me into it for a while, and then I watched your press conference, and… I don’t know. I guess…” She folded her hands tightly on the table and stared at them. “We were all miserable, but I know it wasn’t something you and Mom did on purpose. I know that, and I think I’ve always known it, but I still…”

“It doesn’t matter if was on purpose,” I whispered unsteadily. “We screwed up, and you got hurt. You have every right to be hurt and angry.”

Her chin quivered, and another tear slid down her cheek. “I know so many people whose parents were awful. Like, abusive and fucking evil.” She wiped her eyes but still didn’t look at me. “They think I shouldn’t be mad, and that you and Mom didn’t actually do anything to us, but⁠—”

“But we did,” I said. “And my cheating did hurt all of you. You. Your brothers and sister. Your mom. Everyone.”

She finally met my gaze, her eyes heartbreakingly red and wet. She may have been in her late twenties, but in that moment, she didn’t look a day older than the preschooler who was scared to get on the bus.

I took a deep breath and I forced myself to keep it together as I said, “We hurt you. I hurt you. We made your house a miserable place to be when it should’ve been the safest. You have every right to be angry with us. Yes, it hurt when you cut me off, but I made that bed, not you.”

My daughter broke eye contact as her face crumpled.

“You don’t have to forgive me,” I said. “If you don’t want a relationship going forward, I’ll understand. I promise. You’ve done nothing wrong, Ally. We did. We hurt you. And I want the opportunity to fix that and to be your dad again, but if that doesn’t happen, it’s because of what I did, not you.”

Ally cried quietly for a moment, hands over her face as she trembled in the chair. I physically ached with the need to wrap her in my arms and let her cry on my shoulder just like she had as a scared little girl or an upset teenager. But I didn’t know if that would be welcome, and for all I desperately wanted to make this better, I was terrified to make it worse.

Somehow, I managed to say, “You don’t even have to decide today what you want to do. My door will always be open, and you’ll always be my little girl. If you need time, or if you⁠—”

Ally’s chair squeaked as she rose, and panic shot through me. In my mind’s eye, I saw her darting out of the kitchen, leaving me there alone with cold coffee and regret.

To my utter astonishment, though, she came around the table. I rose, heart pounding with uncertainty, and then⁠—

Then my baby girl was hugging me.

I closed my eyes and held her against me, fighting hard not to break down sobbing myself. Stroking her hair, I whispered, “I’m so sorry, baby.”

“Me too.”

“No.” I held her tighter. “You have nothing to be sorry about.”

“But I cut you off for⁠—”

“Ally.” I kissed the top of her head. “I was the adult. You were a kid. I don’t hold it any of it against you.”

The renewed sobs drove my guilt even deeper; how much of our estrangement hadn’t just been her being angry at me, but feeling responsible for the rift?

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” I told her again. “Nothing at all.”

She relaxed a bit more and held me a bit tighter. I just closed my eyes again and held on, still stroking her hair and still trying to keep myself together. I hated that I’d caused her this much pain, and I didn’t know if I’d ever forgive myself for how much I’d hurt all of my kids. Somehow, she was this much closer to forgiving me.

After a moment, Ally let me go, and she wiped her eyes. “Listen, um…” She wrung her hands in front of her. “I need to know something. Just… yes or no.”

My insides knotted all over again. Honesty was a given, but I was afraid of what she was going to ask me to say. “Okay.”

“When you were married…” Ally swallowed. Then she looked at me through her lashes. “Did you love Mom?”

The question chased all the air out of the room. Of all the things she could’ve asked, that one hadn’t even crossed my mind.

After a moment, I met my daughter’s tear-filled gaze. “Yes. I loved her.”

Ally closed her eyes and bowed her head. I couldn’t see enough of her face to gauge her expression, though she seemed relieved. Intensely, deeply relieved.

“I always loved her,” I went on softly. “Even when I thought I hated her. And I still love her.” I paused, then decided my daughter deserved the truth that went all the way to the bone. It was a struggle, but I managed to go on. “One of my biggest regrets besides what we did to you kids was what we did to ourselves and our relationship. I know I can’t be married to her anymore. She and I weren’t right for each other, and we’ve both moved on with other people. But truth be told, a day doesn’t go by—” My voice caught, and I paused again, trying to collect myself.

Ally raised her head, studying me curiously.