As a single dad, I thought my daughter had finally found real happiness with Mark. But right before the vows, a note from the best man had her bolting out of the church. Folks say a wedding day’s the proudest moment for a dad.
Maybe so. But as I stood at the back of the church, watching my daughter in her wedding gown, I felt something else. A heavy load, like all the years that got us here crashed down on me at once.
Nicole. My little miracle, my worry, my reason to keep going. When she was only eight, life stole her mom from us.
A quick sickness, the doctors called it, but the pain that came after? That dragged on forever. Our house turned dead quiet overnight, no more laughs, just thick sadness in the air.
I had to figure out braiding hair, making school lunches, and explaining stuff I barely got myself—like periods, broken hearts, the scare of growing up without a mom. One night, she snuck into my bed clutching the stuffed bunny her mom gave her. “Dad, if you marry someone new, will she forget Mom?” Her voice broke with that raw fear no kid should feel.
I hugged her close and promised right there, “It’s always you and me, kid. Nobody changes that.” And I meant every word. So I never remarried, hardly dated at all.
Every check, every choice, every rough night was for Nicole. I picked up extra work, scraped by on bills, skipped what I wanted so she never felt short. And somehow, she turned into this amazing woman.
Tough, sweet, quick with a comeback, and pretty in ways that hit me hard, reminding me of her mom. Now… she was set to marry Mark. A guy I trusted.
A guy who felt like family. When Nicole first brought Mark home, yeah, I was on alert. “Dad, don’t grill him,” she warned, tugging my arm like she could rein me in.
“Grill?” I laughed, but I was dead serious. “Nicole, you’re my only girl. Any guy at this table better be ready.”
Then Mark showed up.
I braced for jitters or cocky attitude. But he stuck out his hand, looked me dead in the eye, and said, “Mr. Jack, thanks for having me in your home.” His shake was solid, his tone even, his manners… almost too good.
I eyed him close. “So, Mark, what do you do?”
No dodge. “Finance work.
Long days, but it covers the rent.” Then, instead of bragging like some guys, he leaned in. “Nicole says you’ve run construction crews over twenty years. That’s tough stuff.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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