Page 68 of Shine Bright

“No, of course not.” My voice trembles. “You’re her family. I’m just—” You’re just her cowardly father. “But I don’t want to miss anything else.”

“You’ve already missed so much.” A reproachful expression spreads over Brittany’s face. She’s regained her composure, but the fear in her eyes is still there. She doesn’t believe me, and she has the right not to.

“I know. And I also know that I can’t undo it.”

“You can’t,” Clark confirms, and my shoulders tense again.

“I’m not trying to. I made mistakes. I never should have stayed away so long. There’s no justification and no excuse for what I did. I was just . . . afraid. I still am,” I admit, because anything else won’t help. Not with them.

Clark’s voice is a little gentler when he replies. “We understand that you had to leave back then. You weren’t in any condition to take care of Olivia. Not in the way she needed.”

I nod, my eyes burning. Images flash in my mind’s eye, images that I’ve suppressed even more fiercely than the ones of Isabel. The hospital. The neonatal intensive care unit. An incubator with a tiny baby inside, with downy dark hair. The constant beeping of the monitors. The beeping stopping, hectic people, loud voices, and then silence.

Silence, again and again.

My stomach churns.

“She was lucky to be with you—you were the best option for her,” I croak, wishing it had been different.

“It’s nice of you to say that,” Brittany says, choked up.

I shrug and blink frantically against the tears. “It’s just the truth.”

Isabel always had a good relationship with Brittany and Clark, the kind of relationship everyone wants with their parents. She could talk to them about anything. They respected and supported every decision she made, and at the same time, they gave her space. I always envied her for that.

I think that’s why I chose them and not my own mother. I wanted Olivia to grow up like Isabel. And deep down, I know that taking care of Olivia would save them, just like it would have destroyed me if I had been the one to do it.

“So why did you come back?” She looks at me, unsure.

“I just want to be a part of her life. As long as you’re comfortable with that. You’re responsible for her, it’s your decision.” Every single word makes me feel like I’m suffocating, but I know it’s the right thing to say. Once again, the two of them exchange a glance that I can’t interpret, but they’ve relaxed noticeably in the last few minutes.

“Can we think about it for a while?” Clark asks.

“Of course.” I’m so relieved that I feel dizzy. My heart is pounding hard against my ribs. Maybe they’re really going to give me a chance. For the first time in months, I feel something like hope.

Brittany clears her throat. “By the way, it’s not true what I said. That she doesn’t know you, I mean.” Her cheeks turn red. “Although of course she doesn’t know you as the person you are now. But she knows who you are. She knows that you exist.”

My throat tightens again, and I’m afraid I’m about to start crying. They talk to Olivia about me?

“We showed her photos of you, and a few of the videos—” Her voice breaks, but then she straightens her back and takes a deep breath. “The videos that Isabel took of you back then. Of the ballet.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” Brittany swallows hard, her eyes beginning to glisten. “She dances too. Just like you. And she’s good, just like you. Or rather, she will be one day.”

“She . . . Really?” I’m unable to formulate a sentence.

“Really.” Clark smiles, and for the first time, his smile is genuine. “She’s a lot like you.”

I can’t breathe, I just can’t, even though the noose around my neck has loosened a little.

None of this is right. They’re making it too easy for me.

I don’t deserve this, I really don’t.

I ran away from Isabel’s death and Olivia’s life. From my responsibility and my guilt. I ran away from myself.

But I’m tired of it.