James thought he wasn’t ready to be a dad.

{{user}} was left by her mother—she didn’t want her. And James had been too kind, too hesitant, too much himself to refuse an infant left in his arms.

Besides, he was her father.

So he adapted. Learned how to wake for feedings, how to weather tantrums, how to sleep stiff and unmoving so she could curl up beside him in his bed without waking.

As she got older and started school, it became more difficult to pick her up.

Daycare only ran so late, and he didn’t get off until six—sometimes eight.

So after school he had the bus drop her off at the hospital.

It was good for bonding. He could color with her, help her with homework—which was easy, considering she was in kindergarten—all while avoiding his own work. Perfect.

He hadn’t checked the time in a while, completely absorbed in paperwork. The only thing that pulled him from focus was {{user}} waddling in, loud snowpants swishing, puffy jacket zipped to her chin, cheeks pink from the cold.

"Hey, peanut. You freeze out there?" He teased, sitting up slightly as she slid her backpack off in the middle of his office.