Page 44 of Summer with the Single Dad

“No, I … I think I’ll skip dessert.”

“Does your tummy hurt?” Aya probed. “Do you need some Tums? Or a belly massage? Daddy massages my tummy when it hurts, or if I have to poo but can’t.” She glanced up at her father. “You can massage Justine’s tummy for her, right?” Her gaze swung back to Justine. “Do you need to poo? Because we have gummies for that. I was constipated after I refused to eat my vegetables for a week. So Daddy bought me these gummies that make you poop. Do you need one? Daddy, grab Justine a poop gummy.”

Bennett groaned, dropped his gaze, and shook his head.

“I … I have to go,” Justine blurted before dashing out of the kitchen and taking the stairs two at a time. She didn’t intend to slam the bedroom door, but the window was open and a warm gust of wind kicked it shut with abrupt force.

She bounced a little when she sat down on Bennett’s bed, staring at the hardwood floor and the dark blue runner.

This was a terrible idea.

She needed to leave.

Staying here, in this house with such a wonderful man and such captivating children … it wasn’t fair to any of them. Not to Bennett, not to the girls, and not to Justine’s heart.

But she also couldn’t bring herself to pack up and leave.

Eventually, the sky outside grew dark and noises in the house drifted upstairs where the girls were getting ready for bed.

Bennett deterred Aya from knocking on Justine’s door twice. The deep sigh of confusion and regret from the little seven-year-old made its way through the thick wooden door and buried itself in Justine’s chest.

“Did we do something wrong?” Aya asked as Bennett tucked her into bed. “Did I say something to make Justine mad?”

“Where’s Mummy Kitty?” Bennett asked, ignoring her question. “Where’s your stuffy?”

“Mummy Kitty is right here, under my pillow. She’s fine, Dad. But did I do something to make Justine mad?”

Justine crept closer to her closed bedroom door to eavesdrop better.

“No, Little Bug. I don’t think so. I think Justine is just tired and the change from the cabin to a house full of people—particularly a house with two little girls who never stop asking questions—” Aya started to giggle which meant he was probably tickling her. “Is probably overwhelming.”

“When will I get to stay up later like Emme?”

“When you don’t turn into a Crabby Kathy after seven o’clock. Maybe this summer we can talk about shuffling your bedtime. But right now, when it takes you twenty minutes to drag your grumpy butt out of bed in the morning, seven thirty is bedtime.”

“I’m not grumpy.”

“I was worried your face was going to stay that way yesterday morning.”

“It’s because I had to go to school yesterday. I don’t frown on the weekends. Today is Saturday and I’ve been happy all day. I even woke up happy.”

“Goodnight, my sweet, argumentative child.”

“Can I say goodnight to Justine?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s probably asleep. And you asking all of these questions has probably woken her up.”

“Then I can say goodnight to her now that she’s awake.”

“Aya Lucia Lopez McEvoy, it is bedtime. I mean it.”

All Justine could hear was a child-like growl, but she only had to imagine what kind of a Grumpy Cat face Aya was making. She probably had her arms crossed over her chest and her brows furrowed until they met in the middle, like kissing caterpillars. That image made her smile.

“Give me a kiss.”

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