“I do.”
“And me?”
I studied his red eyes and trembling smile.
“Not even slightly.”
He laughed.
At the stage, the principal handed me my diploma.
Dad hugged me so tightly that my graduation cap fell onto the grass.
The crowd cheered again.
Eighteen years earlier, a frightened teenage boy had carried an abandoned baby across that same football field.
He had no money, no parenting experience, and no reason to believe he could give her a good life.
But he stayed.
He chose her.
He became her home.
And as we stood together beneath the summer sun, no accusation, blood test, or hidden letter could change the truth everyone on that field could see.
Mason Cole may not have been the man whose blood ran through my veins.
But he was my father in every way that mattered.
He always had been.
