Silence cascaded over Henry, and he went stiff, a breath caught in his throat. He hesitated, diverting his eyes down at his daughter. “She doesn’t have one,” he answered slowly. “Her father was a one night stand in London.”
He could almost hear Alex’s confused expression. “Her… father? But aren’t you her father?” He moved closer, just by an inch. “You’ve lost me, H.”
“I’m trans,” Henry spat out. It was something he had gotten used to about himself, but sometimes, when it regarded Darcy’s birth, it still felt like poison on his tongue. “So, yes. I’m her father, but I also… she’s…”
A hand fell on Henry’s thigh. “I gotcha,” hummed Alex. “Sorry for prying.”
“It’s quite alright.” The weight of this almost-strangers hand laid heavy against the fabric of Henry’s pants, not unwelcome, just new. “Besides, there wouldn’t be a mother anyway. I happen to be very, very gay.”