“He was your dad.” Grace looked down at our joined hands, and her small fingers tightened around mine.

She was quiet for a moment, and then she asked the question that I had known would come, the one that had no gentle answer.

“Did he know about me?” My throat closed.

“No, sweetheart,” I said softly.

“He didn’t.

He was gone before I ever had the chance to tell him.

I wanted to.

I would have.