My daughter brought him home for the first time last night, all smiles and giggles; all laughter; holding hands up the path.
I didn’t laugh. I took him into the kitchen, gave him the speech, the rules; told him if he broke her heart he’d have me to answer to.
He said he loves her. Said he’ll take care of her.
I don’t trust him. He’ll let her down - they always do.
Now she wants to see more of him. I don’t like it. Or him.
But what can I do? She’s eight years old. And he’s her father.
