Only One Regret (Only One 5)

I close my eyes, knowing he’s right. "But I was there for my girls." It’s the first time I ever admitted that I wasn’t there for anyone but them. It should hurt less, but it doesn’t.

"Are you not going to be there for them anymore?" I can hear him tapping his finger on the desk.

"Of course I will," I say without skipping a beat. "Always. How can you even ask that?"

"Don’t you think the kids would have picked up on how miserable you were if you stayed with Julianne?" He is the only one who has balls enough not to sugarcoat things. Even Erika has her moments, but she knew that divorce was a delicate subject for me.

"I mean, I never thought of that. I was never rude or nasty to her in front of the girls. Fuck, I moved to fucking Dallas for her," I declare angrily. "I gave up so much to make her happy."

"And that, right there," he says, "should be reason enough for you not to doubt your decision."

"I mean, I can’t really doubt it," I remind him. "She served me divorce papers when I skated off the ice. I didn’t even have my gloves off, and this guy was there with a manila envelope." Just thinking back on it makes my stomach burn. It took Manning, the captain of the team, to talk me down from driving over to the house. He called Erika, and she came right over, and the two of them talked me down.

"I will never say a bad thing about Julianne," my father says. "But the best thing for her to do was to let you go. Having the two of you growing apart in front of the girls wasn’t healthy. Each of you resenting the other. Besides, don’t you want your girls to know what unconditional love is?" I don’t bother saying anything to him because I know he’s right. I know I would never disrespect their mother to them, but would I be a different person? I close my eyes, thinking I would be so miserable that they would probably hate me in the end.

"I’m the first one in the family to get divorced. Fuck, it was supposed to be forever." My voice gets low. "I’m a disappointment."

"One," he says, his tone getting a touch louder, "you aren’t the first one to get divorced." I tilt my head to the side and wonder who the fuck else got divorced. "Grandma got divorced."

I roll my eyes. "That doesn’t count."

"That counts tenfold," he replies. "It’s because of that we all know what unconditional love is." I know he’s right.

"And two, you are not a disappointment. Jesus, it’s not like you went out and killed someone! You got divorced."

"Yeah, and my kids will be in the category of divorced parents," I remind him, getting a touch angry.

My father laughs at me. "I was in the category of divorced parents." I can see him shaking his head. "And I turned out semi-okay." His laughter makes me chuckle. "Honestly, Cooper, the best thing to ever happen to me was my father leaving. I can’t imagine the man I would have become without having Cooper by my side." His voice gets really soft. "Divorce is not the end of the world. The main thing is your girls see that you are there for them no matter what. That if they need you, they can count on you. And maybe one day you’ll find a love that’s really forever." I don’t say anything to that. I swallow down the lump that is forming. "As long as your girls are happy and loved, you can’t ask for more. They need the best dad there is. Regardless of if you are married to their mother."

"You’re right," I admit. "As long as the girls are okay, nothing else matters."

"Exactly," he says. "And it works out that Julianne accepted you would take them when you would be in town, and when you travel, she has them."

"Yeah," I agree, laughing. "Erika came up with that one. Julianne wanted one week on, one week off."

"Well, there is a reason Becca handed her the keys to the kingdom, and it wasn’t because she has a pretty face."

"She works hard," I say, proud of her. "And it shows."

"We are coming down this weekend," my father says, and I smile big. "If it was up to your mother, she would be there today, but Franny and Vivi dragged her to LA for a girls' week trip."

"And you let her go?" I ask, laughing. My father is never far away from my mother.

"I’m on the plane going to her," he admits. "She left last night." I can’t help the laughter that rips through me. "So she got a six-hour head start."

"Does she know you’re coming?" I ask, my chest feeling lighter the more I talk to him.