I raised my best friend’s four daughters as my own. A decade later, an unexpected delivery arrived. Then I saw the note attached.

But he refused to acknowledge them because they didn’t fit the perfect life he wanted.

I pressed a hand to my mouth.

If he has appeared now, after all these years, be careful. Don’t let promises or money make you forget what he did, but, honey, this is the part I need you to follow.

Give him a chance.

I had no idea then how much that would cost me.

Be careful.

I have spent years angry with him, but part of me still hopes he might become the father our girls deserved. If he asks to know them, don’t shut the door because of me. Let the girls hear him. Let them decide.

Through the window I could see the girls still laughing, unaware.

Just make sure they know the truth before they do.

I kept every message, every letter. You’ll find them in the storage box behind the water heater, taped underneath the shelf. Proof of everything, just in case.

Let them decide.

I lowered the pages to my lap.

After everything Richard had done, Lily was asking me to give him the one thing he had never given her: a chance.

Ten years I had raised those girls alone.

Men had walked away when they learned I had four children.

Even my own parents had refused to help because they hated my choice.

And now Lily was asking me not to let my anger make the girls’ choice for them.

Ten years I had raised those girls alone.

“Mom?” Maya stood in the kitchen doorway, tongs still in her hand.

I looked up at her, unable to find my voice.

“You’re pale as a sheet. What’s wrong?”

Before I could answer, a car door closed outside.