Daniel finished his coffee and fiddled with his mug. It was taking all his self-control to not ask about Annika. It had been less than two weeks since he’d left her standing there in that waiting room, but only two days since he’d last seen her in Nilay’s room. She had brushed past him that day, leaving behind a tangible vacuum.

Turns out he was as much of a jerk as Steven. Left her when she needed him most. While he wouldn’t be forgiving himself for that anytime soon, he knew with all his heart that it had to be done.

Seeing her in Nilay’s room a few days ago had only served to remind him of how much he loved her. Even now, his cells were dancing a small jig because he was talking to her father. Because of the potential that he might get some information about her.

Daniel wanted nothing more than to be the man she deserved, the man who could make her happy, but he wasn’t, and he never would be. She was better off without him, and the sooner she accepted that, the sooner she could go on with her life and be truly happy.

He would just have to deal.

As if he had read Daniel’s mind, Mr. Mehta shifted in his seat. “I did not mean to eavesdrop on your conversation that day in the waiting room, but I overheard what you told my daughter after she so very gallantly defended you to me. And I wanted to give you this.” He slid a card across the table to Daniel. It said simply, “We are fathers.”

Confused, Daniel looked at Mr. Mehta. “I don’t have children.”

“But you did.”

A pit formed in Daniel’s stomach. He wasn’t going to talk about Sara here. Or anywhere.

Mr. Mehta held up his hands at the look on Daniel’s face. “I’m not asking you to talk about it. And my daughter did not betray your confidence. I simply heard you mention it to her. In a public place. Before you broke her heart.” He raised an eyebrow.

Daniel squirmed under his gaze. He was never going to please this man. “I would’ve thought my leaving was what you wanted.”

The older man nodded. “Yes, I can see why you would think that. But as I said, as a father, you know it’s about your children’s happiness. And my daughter is not happy.” Anil Mehta sighed. “But I’m not here for Annika. I’m here for you.”

“I’m not a father.” Anymore.

Mr. Mehta rested his hands on the table. “This is a support group for men like you. I know people, and this has come across my desk. I am passing along the information. Do with it what you will.”

Daniel started to hand the card back. “I don’t need this. But thank you.”