I was horrified.
“I didn’t know she could stand up,” I said in a panic, thinking of all the ways she could have gotten really hurt. “I’ve never seen her stand up before.” My voice sounded weird to me as the blood rushed in my ears. “I didn’t know. How could she reach that far when she can’t even walk?”
“Take a breath,” he said, looking at me over Marigold’s head. He said it with the same soothing tone he spoke to Marigold with. “You clean up the crib while I clean up the girl, okay?”
I nodded frantically, trying to do anything to push back the panic threatening to completely take over.
Do not freak out. Do not freak out.
“I almost killed her,” I blurted, grabbing at my hair and yanking. “I… I can’t be trusted with her. They’re right. I’ll make a terrible father. I’m unfit. This is never going to work. What was I thinking?”
Dark spots blinked at the edges of my vision, and my lungs seized up. I could have killed her. What if it had been a knife I’d left on the table? I didn’t own a gun, but I did have a hunting knife I usually kept tucked in a drawer in my bedside table in case of intruders. What if she’d been able to open the drawer and get to it?
“Hey, hey,” he said in that same sweet voice, softer now with a hint of worry. His cool hand reached up and clasped my face to get me to look at him. “It’s okay. Every parent on earth has stuff like this happen. I promise. The key is to do the best you can and then learn from your mistakes.”
“I can’t do this,” I whispered. “I’m not good enough for her.”
It was something I’d never admitted out loud even though I’d thought it a million times since getting the call that my sister was gone and Marigold had been left in my care.
Parrish’s hand smoothed across my forehead and my cheek while his other held Marigold tight to his chest. She was sucking on her thumb while staring at me, and I suddenly realized I didn’t want her to see me this way. I reached out and cradled her dark curls in my palm.
“I love her so much,” I admitted softly. “If I love her this much, shouldn’t I let her go?”
It was agony to ask him that, but if there was one thing I could guess about Parrish Partridge, it was that he had a much better head on his shoulders than I did. Clearly he knew more about kids, and maybe he could do me the favor of at least telling me if my attempt to keep Marigold was a fool’s errand.
His eyes narrowed and he practically spat out the words. “Absolutely not, and I don’t want to hear you say that ever again. It’s because you love her this much that she needs to stay right where she is. With you. With the person who loves her the most.”
Our eyes met over her head, and I wondered when was the last time someone had fiercely defended me like that? Maybe when one of my classmates had called me trailer trash and Aunt Dot had lit into them with a nasty string of hellfire and damnation under the guise of what she referred to as a “concerned Christian woman.” Which was something she called herself whenever the title suited her despite the fact she hadn’t set foot in a church since deciding staying in bed naked with her woman was preferable on a Sunday morning.
And now Parrish Partridge was telling me I was good enough, that not only was I an acceptable choice to raise Marigold, but that I was the only choice.
“Thank you,” I said. “I guess I didn’t realize how bad I needed to hear it.”
His hand trailed down from my face to my chest, but before I could get too excited about his touch, he patted my chest and cleared his throat. “Well, what are fiancés for, if not to support their man. Now… let’s get to work. This coffee isn’t going to clean itself.”
He turned and busied himself at the makeshift changing station on my dresser while I stared after him in shock. Had he just…?
“Stop staring at my ass and get to work,” he said over his shoulder before wincing. “Um, I mean… stop staring at my back and get to work. Not that you would ever stare at my ass. Don’t be ridiculous, Parrish.”
I couldn’t hold back a laugh. It wasn’t a giddy giggle at all, and I didn’t feel high with the possibility he’d actually agreed to my nutty scheme. “Do you always talk to yourself like this?” I asked, leaning over to strip the soiled bedding from the portable crib.