Morningside Cuesta sandcastles

"Of course they would," he assured her. "And I'd be your dad, same as always."

His concession did not seem to reassure her the way he'd meant it to - he wished he were good enough with words to explain that it would not be a sacrifice, that he had already been blessed above and beyond, that his happiness did not depend on more children but on the deepness of his bonds with whatever family he had.

"I know things have been tough, Dawn. I don't blame you for being afraid," he said, shuffling near enough to push his forehead against hers. He hesitated, however, to curl against her the way he wanted to. She was not as tactile as she had been as a baby, and he wanted to treat her as the adult she was becoming, rather than the little girl he wanted her to be. "But don't you ever think that I'll forget about you, or replace you, or stop worrying when you disappear off into the wilderness. I love you and Sunny more than anything else in the world. Even if you decide to go your own way - and I expect that, one day, you'll want to - I'll keep on loving you, and I'll wonder if you're happy, and I'll hope you're doing well. I think about Sunny every day, and it hurts, but I wouldn't change it. And I wouldn't change my love for you, either."

He hoped, of course, that Sunny would return to him one day. He hoped that Dawn would set aside her anger, and that Sunny would know how to receive her when she did. For now, though - "These pups are going to be the same as you and Sunny. And the same way that my love for Sunny doesn't lessen my love for you, neither will they. But I'm going to be spending a lot of time with them, and I hope that you'll spend time with them, too. I don't want a second family, Dawn. I want this family."