“Because I know you.”
I frowned.
“You would’ve started volunteering too,” he whispered. “You would’ve stayed late. You would’ve skipped lunch to buy art supplies.”
A reluctant smile escaped me.
“Probably.”
“You would’ve carried every child’s heartbreak home with you, Dani.” His thumb brushed away one of my tears. “You already carry so much. I wanted this to be one thing you didn’t feel responsible for fixing.”
I stared at the man I had loved for twelve years.
Then I looked at the paper crown.
Without saying anything, I opened it and placed it on his head.
It sat crooked.
Julian laughed.
“What are you doing?”
I smiled through my tears.
“Every Daddy Dinosaur deserves his crown.”
His eyes filled.
“I never wanted anyone to know. I wasn’t trying to be…”
“I know.”
I rested my forehead against his.
“You remembered something I’d forgotten.”
Outside, afternoon sunlight spilled through the kitchen window.
Julian’s recovered phone sat forgotten on the counter.
Instead, he absentmindedly held the little green dinosaur while I straightened his crooked paper crown.
Somewhere across town, a group of children would never know that they had not simply given a volunteer a funny nickname.
They had reminded a wife that sometimes the biggest secret the person you love is keeping is simply the quiet good they have been doing when no one was watching.
