Page 80 of Dr. Single Dad

“That should really go in the mug,” Eddie says.

Have I missed a couple of minutes? What is she talking about?

“Eddie doesn’t need your money.” She scribbles it down and tosses it across the floor. “Another reason to stay with your sexy single dad.”

“So just like that, I don’t need to pay for anything for you?”

She shrugs. “Worst case, I can get a loan.” She narrows her eyes. “Are you okay? You look a little…sweaty.”

“Stop with the compliments. I’m blushing.”

“You do look a little red in the face.”

I roll my eyes and ignore how she’s trying to deflect the conversation. “Owing people money is horrible. Especially if you don’t have to. Which you don’t.”

“Don’t you get it?” she asks. “Iwantto be independent. I want to do this on my own. And maybe I’ll get myself in the shit, but if I do, I know you’ll help me get out—not financially, but just by being there. I’m twenty years old. My uni fees are paid. I have a job. It’s important I learn to do things on my own. The circumstances were awful and I’d never wish it on you, but what our…cuncledid…well, you’ve proven that however hard life gets, you can figure it out. That makes you powerful as fuck.” She grabs my hand. “I want some of that for me, you know?”

“You want me to leave you in the shit?”

“Financially, I want to start figuring things out on my own. I’ll never go through what you did, because you didn’t have a safety net. You’ve given me that gift. But now I’m an adult. I think I should explore what I’m capable of. Frankly, I should have been applying for scholarships left and right, but I haven’t because I knew you had it covered. I should have probably had a job by now too. Things are changing now, and that means you don’t have to take the job with the Russians.”

I can’t help but smile at her. I’m so proud. Not just because she’s choosing not to take the easy route, but because she’s also managing to convince me thatnotmaking everything easy for her is actually the best thing I can do.

“Oh and by the way, I’ve spoken to Dylan. He and I are completely aligned. We’re not taking your money anymore. We’re both adults capable of making our own money. Neither of us wants you putting your life on hold just in case we need something. Not anymore.”

“You two are conspiring?” I ask.

She grins like I’ve just given her the biggest compliment. “I saidaligned. Not conspired.”

It sounds like this is what she really wants. Perhaps it’s even what she needs. I’ve always tried to protect Dylan and Eddie, but maybe there are disadvantages to being forever wrapped in a layer of cotton wool. “Maybe you’re right,” I say, trying to sound open to the possibility.

“Resilience is the most important thing I can learn.”

How can I argue with that?

“Dylan and I don’t need your help financially,” she says as if she’s summing up.

“Well, not now, but what if?—”

“Then we’ll figure it out. Whateveritis. And we’ll figure it out together. We’ve got to stop acting like we’re under siege and start living life, Eira. And when I saywe’vegot to start living life, I meanyou.You’ve taken care of us for so long. It’s time for you to focus on yourself for once.”

She threads her fingers through mine and leans her head on my shoulder.

“I love you,” she says. “And I need you.Always. But not financially. Not anymore.”

“I love you,” I reply. “And I’ll always need you, too.” More than ever—though I don’t say so. Because if Dylan and Eddie don’t need me, I won’t know who I am and how I fit into the world.

THIRTY-ONE

Eira

Is it me or can I smell vomit? I sniff once, then twice, before a metallic taste on my tongue and a churning in my stomach takes my attention. I reach out for I don’t know what. I feel myself being pulled up, up, up. I don’t know where I am—I just know I’m about to be sick.

Someone’s holding my waist. Big hands. Strong hands. Not Eddie. Is it…? Where am I? “Eddie,” I call out. Someone bends me at my waist. More hands on my hair. I wretch, my fingers finding the cold porcelain of a sink.

Everything is white and bright, a sharp contrast to the grainy, disgusting taste in my mouth.

“It’s okay,” someone says.

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