They stand between their parked cars at the edge of the gas station lot. He’s smiling and warm, probably talking about what he and his daughter did since the weekend started. She’s tentative, as if she needs to keep the space between them, to use their daughter as a buffer. He’s animated, smiling, trying, almost desperately, to keep her engaged in conversation before she once again slips away to her new life. He glances away from her swollen belly, a visual reminder to him of what could have been; of what she now has with someone else.

He kisses his daughter sweetly. She hugs him around his neck and presses a kiss to his cheek before she hops in the car. Her mom eases toward the driver’s seat, as if she wants to leave, but doesn’t really want to hurt him again.  They are buckled and ready but he can’t let them go yet. He keeps talking, engaging, trying to keep her near.

She starts the engine and pulls away. He stands and watches them go, sadly waving goodbye to the life he once had.