Daddy's Second Chance Little (Wounded Daddies 6)

Tuesday comes and I don’t call the galleries.

Tuesday night comes and he asks how it went and I lie to him again.

On Wednesday I try to call the galleries, but can’t bring myself to dial any.

So, I lie to him on Wednesday night too.

It goes on for almost three weeks.

Then, one evening he says, “Are you okay?”

“Sure, Daddy,” I say. “Why?”

“I just want to make sure you don’t lose hope because the art galleries are taking some time.”

“Oh no, Daddy,” I say. “I just. . .” I can’t keep up the lie. I collapse on the couch and through horrible, heaving sobs, I come clean about everything. I cry like a baby and admit I was too afraid to call any of them. I can’t stop crying and Michael waits patiently for me to finish.

When I’m all cried out, he gently pushes me back, looks at me and says in a quiet voice a hell of a lot scarier than any of the times he’s used a stern voice with me.

“You’re in a lot of trouble, Little Girl,” he says. “A lot of trouble.”