"So, you
really love him, eh?" he said, sitting on a gray bench on a gray
winter evening, out in their immense garden.
"Yes."
she said simply, looking into his unreadable face.
"Are you sure
about this?" he questioned umpteenth time.
"You know how
I am always confused about everything?" she asked and he nodded,
"Well, this is one of those few things that I am truly confident
about. He actually loves me, tho' it has been really hard for me to
believe it."
"Nonsense."
he commented, "I mean," he began in reply to her raised
eyebrow, "You are absolutely lovable. I don't think there's any
guy who'd come into contact with you and not fall in love with you."
he smiled, gently.
"You are
biased." she chuckled, "Trust me, there are guys who don't
love me. Brian, for example? He's such a good friend and thankfully,
not in love with me."
"He's your
friend, I know. And, I've always suspected him to a bit gay, anyway."
he laughed.
"How can
anyone be a bit gay!"
she laughed along with him.
His laughter died down after a few seconds and she saw his eyes
shining.
"Are you okay with this?" she asked, concerned, squeezing
his hand.
"I am okay with every thing that makes you happy, honey."
he smiled bravely, fighting the tears that were threatening to
escape, "Well, not every thing, but you get my point."
he laughed, again.
"I love him and I love you, too." she said, still holding
his hand, her grayish green eyes boring into his light gray ones,
"And, I want you to know something. I may meet anyone, I may go
anywhere, I may love anyone; but,"
"But?" he prodded, when she paused.
"But, you'll always be my hero, daddy." she whispered,
smiling, tears choking her voice and staining her cheeks.
He smiled the only honest smile of the evening and kissed his
daughter's forehead, wiped away her tears and hugged her tightly, his
eyes closed, letting his own tears fall freely.
