My body automatically moved one step forward.

Then I stopped.

Lucas looked at

him.

The man answered.

I stayed where I was.

One afternoon did not suddenly make him part of our family.

The first week, he called once.

The next week, twice.

He never showed up without asking.

He never demanded that Lucas call him Dad.

And when Lucas didn’t feel like talking one evening, he accepted it.

I watched everything.

Not because I trusted him.

Trust wasn’t something he earned simply by finally appearing.

He would have to build it.

Maybe I would too.

Three weeks later, Lucas sat at the kitchen table eating Sunday pancakes.

Too thick, as usual.

“He wants to come to my game Saturday.”

I set down the syrup.

“Do you want him there?”

Lucas nodded.

“Yeah.”

“Then he should come.”

He studied me.

“You won’t be mad?”

“No.”

“He’s still not my dad-dad.”