Chapter 6 - The First Step on Concrete
The word father hung in the sweet, flower-scented air of the courtyard like a fragile glass sculpture.
Nathan froze. Tears immediately welled in his eyes, but he forced himself not to sob. He dropped to his knees right there on the stone walkway, pulling off his wool gloves, his hands trembling as he rested them open on his knees.
"Hi," Nathan whispered, his voice cracking.
Owen set down his blue block and evaluated Nathan with that sharp, terrifying scrutiny he had inherited from the Prescott line. "Are you going to make Mommy cry again?"
"Never," Nathan choked out, placing his hand over his heart. "I swear to you on my life, Owen... I will never make her cry again. And if anyone ever tries to hurt her, or you, I will stand between you and them for the rest of my days."
Chloe walked over to him slowly. She stopped two inches from his knees, reaching out her tiny, soft hand to touch the pale, crescent-shaped birthmark beneath his right ear.
Nathan held his breath, not daring to move a single muscle, tears spilling silently down his cheeks as his daughter's tiny fingers traced the skin that matched her own.
"You have the same spot as Miles," Chloe noted sagely.
"All the boys in our family have it," Nathan whispered, smiling through his tears. "And... and I hear you like rabbits?"
Chloe’s eyes widened slightly. "How do you know that?"
Nathan reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small, exquisite wooden carving of a jumping rabbit—carved from light birch wood, smooth and polished. "I used to carve wood when I was a boy... before my mother told me it wasn't a suitable hobby for an executive. I made this for you last night."
Chloe took the tiny wooden rabbit, feeling its smooth surface with her thumb. A tiny, brilliant smile broke across her face. "It's pretty."
Grace stood up from the bench, walking over to stand beside her children. She looked down at Nathan kneeling in the dirt—a man who had lost his fortune, his social standing, his mother's approval, and his pride, but was currently holding something infinitely more valuable in his trembling hands.
"The court granted your petition for supervised visitation, Nathan," Grace said quietly.
Nathan looked up at her, his eyes wide with profound, overwhelming gratitude. "Grace... you... you didn't fight the visitation motion?"
"I fought your mother because she was evil, Nathan," Grace said, looking into his eyes. "I will never fight you if you are trying to be a real father to these children. But you start at the bottom. No mansions, no private jets, no expensive gifts to buy their affection. You come to my apartment in South Savannah every Saturday at 10:00 AM. You sit on the floor, you help them with their reading, and you learn how to be a dad."
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Nathan wiped his face with the back of his sleeve, standing up slowly, bowing his head deeply before her.
"I will be there at 9:55 AM every Saturday, Grace," Nathan promised, his voice ringing with absolute, unbreakable conviction. "Thank you. Thank you for giving me a chance I don't deserve."
