He remained silent, absorbing my words.
He glanced at the contents of his cup and carefully placed it on the table. When he looked up again, the weariness in his features was more evident, devoid of any trace of pride.
“I know, Gia. I know my money won’t erase the fear I caused you, and I know it won’t buy your forgiveness,” he admitted with an honesty that disarmed me. “But it’s the only tool I know to protect my family. I don’t know how to be a father, Gia. I don’t have a damn manual for this, and the only example I had was a man who abandoned my mother and me when things got tough. I don’t want to be that man. I have a real, physical fear that my clumsiness or my past will end up ruining that child’s life.”
Hearing him talk about his father was like seeing a deep crack in a wall I al
