“Please. Just trust me.”
The line went dead.
The address came through a moment later.
I didn’t recognize it.
It wasn’t a house. Not her biological mother’s last known address. Not a friend’s place or a lawyer’s office.
Just coordinates to somewhere two towns over.
I drove there in a fog, rehearsing apologies for things I didn’t understand.
My stomach twisted the entire way.
I kept thinking about all the times I’d chosen Lily over myself. All the vacations I’d postponed. The promotions I’d turned down because they required travel.
The life I’d built around being there for a child who wasn’t legally mine.
When I pulled into the parking lot, I had to grip the steering wheel to steady myself.
It was a small salon next to a regional airport.
I sat there for a full minute, convinced I’d lost my mind.
Then I saw her.
Lily was standing near the entrance, hands shoved into her jacket pockets, shoulders hunched. She was nervous, watching the doors as if she were afraid I wouldn’t show up.
I got out of the car on legs that barely held me.
“Lily.”
She waved. “Come here.”
I crossed the parking lot, and she wrapped her arms around me, holding on the way she used to when she was small and scared of thunderstorms.
“I’m sorry,” I said into her hair.
“I’m so sorry if I hurt you. If I did something wrong…”
She pulled back, wiping her eyes. “You didn’t.
You never did.”
“Then why..?”
She reached into her bag, pulled out an envelope, and handed it to me with shaking hands.
Inside were two boarding passes and a handwritten note:
I looked up at her, speechless.
“I used part of Dad’s inheritance,” she said quickly, words tumbling out. “And my savings from the bookstore. And the freelance graphic design work I’ve been doing on weekends for the past year.”
“Lily, baby…”
“Before you panic, it’s not all of it.
I planned this for months. Budgeted everything. I’m not being reckless.”
Tears streamed down my face.
“I watched you after Dad died,” she added.
