We started paternity testing a few days later, but the truth is, I don’t care about the results. Whether or not she’s biologically mine doesn’t change a thing. She’s my daughter. I’ve raised her, held her through fevers, danced with her in the kitchen. I’ve wiped her tears, her nose, her face. She’s mine.
Last night, Lily crawled into bed beside me.
“Daddy?” she whispered.
“Yeah, baby?”
“I don’t want to play that game again.”
I pulled her close.
“Me neither. I’m sorry, my baby, you’ll never have to again.”
She looked up at me, her eyes wide and honest.
“Are you still my real daddy?”
I didn’t hesitate.
“I always have been. I always will be.”
She nodded and rested her head on my chest.
That was all she needed to hear.
