Daddy’s Angel by K.A Knight
Tyler
I’ve really lost her. It’s really over.
Even though it hurts, I know she’s right. This isn’t the right time. We would be going back to each other because it was easy, familiar, and less painful than being apart. I made sure she got home okay, and then I headed home myself.
I don’t plan on losing Lexi forever. She’s still the one, but she’s right, it’s the wrong time. So I will make sure I’m ready at the right time. If losing Justin has taught me one thing, it’s that life is too precious, too fragile.
I won’t lose her the way I lost him.
First, I need to get my life back on track. Get back to work to build a future that she can be a part of when she’s ready. I’ll be waiting because Lex is my future, I know that. She just can’t be my present, but that’s okay. I’ll be waiting, ready for when she is as well.
Because I love her, more than I have ever loved anything in this world.
I know next time we’re together, it will be the start of forever, and I will be ready. My angel will get her wings back, and she will fly high. I will never ground her, hurt her, or leave her again.
Lexi is mine.
The next week passes in a blur. I throw myself into work and buying a new house. This one has too many memories, both good and bad, but it feels like a memorial to all that I’ve lost. I need a fresh start, a new beginning. Preserving Justin’s room like a tomb won’t help me. Every time I walk past, all it does is hurt and block the good memories.
He’s gone, but I can never forget him. His room is just a place, he lives on in my heart and always will.
Instead of just purchasing a house, I spend my nights and free time designing one—for me, for us, for her. Her perfect dream home with everything she has ever mentioned. I ensure it has a pool, because she likes to swim in the sun. I include a cinema room, because she loves movies. The kitchen is big enough for us to cook and play in, and the tub is big enough for us both.
It has a huge window looking out at the back, so she can curl up and read like she told me she liked to do as a child. It has a conservatory for her to sing and play in, and a space attached to it for a dance studio, where she can practice and lose herself in the music. It’s soundproofed, of course, so she never has to worry about the noise.
I make sure I have an office so I can work at home and spend more time with her, plenty of room for guests, and yes, even children. I want it all with her—a life, a family. I remember how she liked sitting under the stars at the restaurant, so I design a room with a glass ceiling to sit under the stars and watch the world go by.
It takes me six days of constant work to draw the original design, and after that, I contact the builders and construction companies I trust. I bought a patch of land years ago with the intention of building a house there, but I just never got around to it. It’s in a nice neighbourhood with other houses built up around it, though not too close, so there is plenty of privacy. There is a lake backing onto the patch, which has been built up as well, with walkways and piers. It’s a beautiful place, close enough for the hustle of the city I enjoy, but far enough out not to hear road noise.
There is no time like now to get started. After coming to an arrangement on prices and contracts, they will begin next week. I check in on Lexi every now and then, only sending a few texts because I’m trying not to overwhelm her. She replies to let me know she’s okay, but not much else. She ignores my late-night drunk text of, ‘I miss you.’
I don’t blame her, I don’t want to pressure her.
I even swing by one day after work just to catch a glimpse of her. And before I know it, two weeks have passed. It’s strange, I miss her like I miss Justin. My heart aches for both.
His mother returns to Paris hating me. The world goes on like he never existed, but I know that’s not true, and I will remember him the way he was before all…this. Loving, fun, my son.
No arguments or anger, no drinking or hate. Just family.
On Friday night that week, I allow myself a little weakness—I go to the club. I need to hear her and see her. I sit way in the back in the shadows as my angel takes to the stage. The lights hit her from behind like the burning sun, illuminating the goddess she is. She is in a simple, short white dress with sequins on it and heels, and her hair is loose and wavy. She has never looked so beautiful, and when she takes the mic and starts to sing, I’m transported away.
For those three minutes, I’m not me. My heart isn’t heavy with my pain and grief. I’m not tired and sad. I’m what her lyrics make me be, they bring me to the world she has created with her stunning, raspy voice. I see it having the same effect on everyone else—they are entranced, that’s how good her voice is. Goosebumps erupt on my skin, my hair stands on end, and my lungs freeze, caught on each and every word. She gazes at the crowd, but she also looks beyond us as well, as if she’s truly transporting us away.
Her voice is so good, she could be a star, but she never wanted to be. She just enjoys performing, it’s her way of letting go, and as the song changes, her voice follows, shifting to a haunting rasp that has tears entering my eyes. She sings of lost love, of death, and new life. She sings of forgiveness and second chances, and deep down, I know she’s singing for us. It’s in the stark honesty of her face and eyes, in the way she gives each word her all, with such power and purpose behind it.
She is doing more than singing a song. She is the song.
Her body is the lyrics, her heart is the melody, and her mind is the emotions.
When it’s over, she stands draped in the spotlight that can’t match her magnificence. Her head is bowed, and a single tear glistens on her cheek as the beat slows to a stop. Then the lights go out, and when they come back on a moment later, she’s gone.
Swallowing, I close my eyes for a moment and remember how good it felt to be loved by her. To be hers and only hers. To know the creature in my bed and arms shined so brightly, she eclipsed anything else, bringing you into her orbit. Revitalising you, filling you with such love and emotions that you could only hope others ever felt even an ounce of the same.
Knowing I need to leave before she catches me here, I stand, drain my glass, and leave a tip. On the way out, I have a word with security, asking him to walk her to her car, and he assures me he will. I buy a rose at the bar as well and ask them to give it to her, but I don’t say who it’s from.
And then I head home alone, to my cold empty bed, and hope that one day, my angel will fly back to me.
On wings of songs and love.
