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John Price was always a better Captain than a husband and father to your young daughter. Back when he was a junior officer, the mission always came first. The first time he missed your birthday, you justified it, telling yourself that it was the life you married into. And then came missed holidays, anniversaries, special occasions. You stayed with him through it all, reminding yourself that this was the sacrifice of loving a soldier.

When your daughter came along, it was harder to accept. See, it didn’t matter so much when it was you he let down; you were a grown woman, after all. You knew what you were signing up for. You knew what to expect.

But you had hoped his promotion to Captain and Father would temper his unreliability a bit.

It didn’t.

After so many tears and restless nights when your daughter would ask for her daddy, ask why he didn’t come to her recital or her play or her birthday party, you had finally had enough. You finally demanded the divorce. He was never around anyway. The paperwork would just make it official.

For several years you were no-contact with Price. The child support payments came monthly, but your job afforded you modest comforts for your daughter, so you saved each cent from your ex for your daughter, opening a college fund or some other savings endeavor to give her when she was older. You changed your name. You changed the locks.

You moved on.

But then, John started coming around again. It seemed almost accidental at first; running into him at the market, then the coffee shop. Then it became deliberate meetings for coffee at that little cafe you used to love. Quarterly coffees became monthly dinners, then weekly meet ups.

John never tried to convince you to take him back. He knew he wasn’t a good partner, didn’t want to reopen old wounds. But he did want to develop a relationship with his daughter. He wanted to try to be a better father.

And he was half-decent.

After years of supervised visits, awkward family dinners with you, your daughter and your new partner, and somewhat better attendance at family events, you started letting him spend time with your daughter alone.

And that’s how he ended up taking her out each Valentine’s Day, starting around the age of eleven.

At first you were hesitant to accept the offer, feeling a little uneasy with the idea. But he justified it by acknowledging that he was a terrible husband when you were together and you deserved the opportunity to spend the day with the person who loved you now. That, and he was making it his personal mission to teach his daughter where to set her standards.

See, he knew all of the excuses, all of the ways to half-arse a Valentine’s Day, and he was determined to make sure his baby girl never settled for anything so paltry.

[Where was this energy when you were together?]

Each February 14th your ex would show up at precisely five o’clock wearing a nice shirt and chinos, boonie hat absent for once. Since when did John Price own chinos? He would be carrying a small bouquet of white roses, a box of chocolates, and a holiday-themed stuffed bear for your daughter. You would open the door and invite him in, letting him present the small tokens to her. When she would bound off to the kitchen to put her flowers in a vase, he would produce a single pink rose for you. It was a small gesture, not intended to step on your current partner’s toes, but meant to convey the gratitude and appreciation he had for this opportunity to still be a part of your lives.

You accepted the flower with a soft smile, placing it in the skinny flute vase you kept just for this occasion. “Bedtime is nine o’clock,” you reminded him before he could usher your pastel pink clad daughter out the door.

John smiled and nodded. “Aye, aye. I’ll have her home. Don’t worry, luv.” And then they were gone, practically skipping down the steps and loading up in Price’s old truck.

He would always ask her the week before what she wanted to do and where she wanted to go for dinner. That’s how John Price ended up in an evening showing of Big Hero 6. He purchases popcorn, candy, and a drink; anything for his baby girl. She laughs, cries, squeals with excitement, and has a grand time.

After, Price takes her to that burger spot she has been obsessed with the last two months. He takes the time to ask her about her day, her week. She tells him about the project she is working on at school, a fight among her friends over science lab partners, and the latest book she is reading. Throughout the meal and conversation, Price listens intently and asks questions, engaging with her. At this age, he isn’t trying so hard to tell her what to want, but model how she should be treated. He’s trying to do right by her, even when he knows he never did for you.

Following dinner, Price takes your daughter to the ice cream shop. Perhaps hopping her up on sugar before bed is a bad idea, but it is a holiday, after all.

They return to your home shortly after nine. You would think that for all his military discipline, Price would at least be prompt, but he only seemed to care about time when it came to showing up for your daughter, not respecting curfew. You rolled your eyes at the notification from your doorbell camera before returning your attention to your date. Your daughter was home safe, after all.

In your home, Price tasks your daughter with changing into her pyjamas for bed. He then allows her to stay up for thirty more minutes to watch an episode of her horse show before tucking her in about an hour after the prescribed bedtime.

Price will wait in the living room until you return home. He doesn’t text to rush you, doesn’t call. He is simply content to be able to spend this time with his daughter and at least try to make some things right with his beloved ex wife.

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