Page 87 of Summer with the Single Dad

Emme giggled. “I’m going to get my bathing suit and sunscreen on.”

“Me too.” She stepped toward her bedroom door, but the little girl rushed her one more time, wrapping her arms around Justine and squeezing her tight enough Justine could only take shallow breaths.

They stayed like that for less than a minute, then Emme retreated to her bedroom and Justine retreated to hers.

Even though Justine was the middle child of three, she knew the weight of responsibility. She knew what it was like to have unrealistic expectations set upon her. She knew Bennett and his brothers weren’t doing this to Emme on purpose, but he needed to know how his daughter felt. How he was parentifying her, forcing her to grow up quicker than she needed to. Then she should.

Was it her place to say something though?

How would he feel if she advocated for his child? If he found out that Emme confided in Justine and not him?

She slipped on her black, one-piece bathing suit and some loose-fitting, powder-blue, denim shorts, along with a white, oversized, long-sleeve button-up. Then the sunscreen was applied like putty on drywall because “Brazeaus don’t get tan lines. Pale skin is safer. Tan lines are for the working class.” Yeah, her mother’s words came back to her even in her thirties. Even when she was free to get tan lines and do as she wanted.

It was hard to cut some of those apron strings. It was like they were made of bridge cables or something. Indestructible and rigid.

She plopped her big floppy hat on her head, slid into her flip-flops, and tossed her beach towel into her bag before opening the bedroom door. Emme emerged from her bedroom a second later, a big smile on her zinc-covered face.

The girls had such naturally tanned skin already, but burns still occurred. So she was happy to see they took suncare seriously.

She was also really happy to see Emme smiling.

They went down the stairs together to meet Aya, who stood by the door with an impatient look on her face, a big mesh bag of sand toys slung over her tiny shoulders. “Took you guys long enough.”

Emme rolled her eyes. Justine stowed her smile by biting the inside of her lip.

Ruckus outside pulled their attention.

“Boys are here,” Emme said, just as there was a knock at the door.

Aya swung it open to find Silas, Griffin, Jake, and Talia all slathered in sunscreen and zinc, wearing beach hats and in bathing suits. Some had towels and beach toys, while Jake, Wyatt’s eldest son, had a bucket full of water bottles and a bag of pretzel chips.

“Let’s do this,” Silas said, scrunching up his face.

Justine chuckled and glanced back at Bennett who stood on the fringe of the living room and foyer, watching them with keen interest. “You’re okay with me going to the beach with the kids?”

He nodded, his blue eyes laser-focused on her.

Crap. Did he hear her and Emme upstairs earlier? Was he mad?

“You guys head to the beach. I’ll be right behind you,” Justine said. “I need to grab a water bottle.”

The kids all took off toward the gate and she stepped toward Bennett, waiting until the children were out of earshot before she spoke. “Listen, I didn’t mean to overstep with Emme, I just—”

But his mouth found hers before she could say another word.

The kiss was powerful. It was deep, yet sweet, and the way his fingers dug gentle, yet possessively into her hip had her melting into his arms in seconds.

He released her, and she stumbled back slightly, her fingers finding her buzzing lips. “Um …”

“I heard you with Emme. Thank you. And yes, if you’re okay doing something one-on-one with her, then I’m okay with it.” Sadness clouded his blue gaze. “I’m gutted that she feels like she can’t come to me with this. And that I’ve put so much pressure on her. Pressure I didn’t even know I was putting on her. I just …” His throat bobbed. “Thank you.”

She could feel his pain and before she thought better of it, before those voices in her head told her not to, she stepped forward again and wrapped him in a hug. His arms immediately made their way around her and he clung on tight.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you,” he murmured against her shoulder. “Or why you don’t think you can talk to me? Why Emerson doesn’t think she can talk to me? But you can. You both can. Please don’t shut me out. What we have is … it’s real. At least it feels real to me.”

She held onto him for another moment so she could rally her thoughts. When they pulled apart, tears brimmed both their eyes.

“I’m just working through a lot of stuff right now,” she croaked. “I’m sorry I’m so hot and cold. This is a vacation of …”

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