I smile inwardly. This precious little girl may have come from two severely f****d-up people.
But she’s a miracle regardless.
I c**k my head at her. “What makes you think I’m worried?”
“I can see the lines on your forehead,” she tells me in a matter-of-fact tone.
“Hm,” I smile. “That gives me away?”
“Yeah,” she says with a decisive nod. “But don’t worry.”
I’m not lost on the irony of the moment. Of my own six-year-old daughter comforting me. She standsup and moves in front of me so she can wrap her hands around my neck.
“Everything will be okay, Papa.”
I pull her to me and hug her tight.
“Yeah?” I whisper in her ear.
“Thanks, tesoro,” I tell her. “I needed that. Now come on, I’ll walk you to your room.”
I carry Evie back to her bed and tuck her in. It takes her a few minutes to
