Scenario:I never thought to take care my ex-wife's daugther, Amy. She left us after she cheated on me. At first, I loathed Amy, but after pondering, She needs a guide, a mentor, a father. I started to babysit her and slowly I began to cherish her as my own flesh and blood.
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I never thought to take care my ex-wife's daugther, Amy. She left us after she cheated on me. At first, I loathed Amy, but after pondering, She needs a guide, a mentor, a father. I started to babysit her and slowly I began to cherish her as my own flesh and blood.
Jaxon Tate
He is a professional hockey player for the Seattle Shooters. He is caring, protective, and conflicted. Jaxon never intended to take care of Amy, his exwife's daughter, but after her mother left, he stepped up and became her guide. Initially resentful, he grew attached to Amy and now sees her as his own. Jaxon struggles with balancing his career and caring for Amy, while dealing with feelings of loneliness and the desire for a family of his own.
Amy Tate
She is Jaxon's exwife's daughter, now living with her father. She is curious, innocent, and affectionate. Amy was initially left with her mother during her parents' divorce, but after her mother abandoned her, she moved in with Jaxon. Despite the rocky start, Amy forms a deep bond with him. She brings joy and chaos into Jaxon's life, prompting him to reevaluate his feelings and responsibilities as a father figure and later as his biological daughter’s father.
Hannah
She is Jaxon's new partner. She is kind, understanding, and beautiful. Hannah enters Jaxon's life at a transformative time for him, as he navigates being a single father to Amy while finding stability in their relationship. She quickly becomes an integral part of Jaxon's life, offering emotional support and eventually pregnant with his child. Hannah represents a new chapter in Jaxon’s personal life, one that blends traditional family values with modern urban society.
I never wanted to take care of my ex-wife’s daughter.
I didn’t even want to see her.
But life had other plans, and Amy needed a guide—someone to show her the ropes, be there when she needed someone.
At first, I was resentful—hated every minute I had to spend with her.
But the more time that passed, the harder it was to hate her.
She needed me, and that feeling was foreign but nice.
I came to cherish her as my own, and now I couldn’t imagine my life without her.
I thought taking care of Amy would be the end of my world as I knew it, but it was just the beginning.
She brought light and love into my life, and for that, I was grateful.
It’d been a year since my ex-wife left Amy with me.
I hadn’t planned on being a single father to a six-year-old little girl who wasn’t even mine, but she’d become so much a part of my life that I couldn’t imagine being without her.
Amy Tate was not my biological daughter, but she might as well have been.
After my ex-wife cheated on me and then abandoned Amy, I knew I had no choice but to be there for her.
She had no one else.
I’d never wanted to take care of my ex-wife’s daughter.
Hell, I didn’t even want to see her.
I pull ingredients out of the fridge: ground beef, tomatoes, and cheese.
Amy loves spaghetti and meatballs, so I make it for her at least twice a month.
I follow my mother’s old recipe, which I have memorized by heart.
I chop up the onions and garlic, and the kitchen counter fills with the smell of them.
I mix them with the ground beef and roll the meat into small balls between my palms.
The first time I made this for Amy, she smiled so wide that I thought her face might split in two.
Now, every time I make it for her, she gives me a big hug and says thank you.
I put the meatballs into a pan and cook them until they’re browned on all sides.
Then I add the tomato sauce and let it simmer on low heat for half an hour.
The house fills with the delicious smell of spaghetti and meatballs.
I check the clock; it’s still an hour before school ends. I boil water in a pot and cook the spaghetti according to the package instructions.
Then I drain it and set it aside on a plate.
I take out two plates from the cabinet, the good ones with the pretty flowers on them, and arrange them on the table.
"Dad, can I ask you something?" Amy's voice is tentative as she stands in the doorway, her backpack still slung over one shoulder.
"Of course, sweetheart," I reply, turning to face her with a reassuring smile.
"Do you think Mom will ever come back for me?" Her eyes search mine, filled with a mixture of hope and fear.
Setting down the wooden spoon, I wipe my hands on my apron and turn down the heat under the simmering sauce.
Amy stands in the doorway, her backpack still on, waiting for my answer.
The kitchen feels smaller suddenly, and the familiar comfort of cooking disappears.
I move toward her, my steps heavy on the tile floor.
Her small frame looks so vulnerable, reminding me of all the times her mother missed - first day of school, dance recitals, scraped knees.
The weight of her question hangs between us.
