I understood then why Blaire was reluctant for me to meet our daughter until she was sure of my intentions. Carrie had the innocent and trusting heart of a child. It was like Blaire said “Hey, this is your daddy,” and she instantly decided she liked me, even though she barely knew me. I could never—would never—break this little girl’s faith in me.

I could feel her tiny heartbeat against my chest, and I silently counted each one as I closed my eyes and breathed her in. So sweet! She smelled like strawberries and cream and little girl. I splayed my hand across her back and noticed that it spanned her entire torso. I rubbed her gently and finally opened my eyes to find Blaire on the couch with tears running down her face like someone had opened a faucet. She pursed her lips and kissed the air between us, and I returned the gesture.

Carrie finally popped her head up and grinned at me before pinching my nose and saying, “HONK!”

That was so unexpected, it made me laugh, and I reached up with one finger and pressed her tiny button nose. “BEEP!”

She giggled and said, “My room is upstairs.” She directed me to the right with the point of her tiny finger once we got to the landing, and we entered a large room decorated in early modern unicorn. The white walls were decorated not with drawings of unicorns, but with framed photographs of actual white horses made up like unicorns. There was a full-sized bed with a purple comforter, and bookshelves lined one wall.

“I love this room, Carrie! It’s so pretty.”

She beamed a smile at me and wriggled until I put her down. She pointed at her bed. “You can sit there.” Then she got a stern look on her face and said, “But don’t jump on it because Mommy will get mad at you.”

I couldn’t help my smirk as I imagined how she knew that. I sat on the bed, and Carrie went over to a small wooden kitchen set up in the corner. “I’ll make you something to eat. What would you like?”

“Uhhh, how about a hamburger?”

She tilted her head sympathetically, fisting one hand on her slim hip, and said, “Sorry. We’re out of hamburgers. What else can I getcha?”

Oh my God, this kid was a hoot. “Do you have any specials today?” I asked her, and she looked to the ceiling, deep in thought, before bringing her eyes back to mine.

“We have a lovely mushroom pizza.”

“Perfect. I love mushrooms,” I told her.

“Me too,” she said excitedly. “I like mushrooms on everything. Well, except cake.”