Page 90 of Summer with the Single Dad

“I want to pick wildflowers and read in a hammock tomorrow,” Emme said.

“I want to blow bubbles and do chalk tomorrow,” Aya said.

“Me too,” Talia agreed before yawning.

They reached the house where Bennett, Clint, Jagger, and Brooke greeted them along with the travel trailer—as promised.

“You up for yoga tomorrow morning again?” Brooke asked her, running her hand over the back of Talia’s head in adoration.

Justine nodded, but her mind was back on the beach and seeing Tad and Ashli.

“You three are with me,” Jagger said to Wyatt and Dom’s boys. “Dads will be up around seven to tuck you into bed. But I figured grilled cheese, veggies, and the new Super Mario movie until they get here.”

The boys cheered.

“You know, neat freak Dom will not be happy to find sand everywhere,” Bennett said with a chuckle. “Probably want to hose them off in the backyard like animals first.”

That didn’t seem to deflate the boys at all. They whooped and raced toward Wyatt’s backyard.

Clint, Brooke and Talia disappeared into their house, which left Bennett, his girls, and Justine.

“Your new casa,” Bennett said, dipping his head toward the travel trailer.

Her smile was brittle. “Do you mind if I shower in the house before I pack and unpack?”

“Not at all.”

They headed indoors, making sure to brush off as much sand into the gravel before they entered the house.

“What’s for dinner, Dad?” Aya asked, before another yawn.

“I thought I’d ask Emme what she wanted,” he replied, giving his eldest daughter a heartfelt look.

Aya’s brows furrowed. “Why Emme?”

“Because,” he simply stated.

Aya pouted slightly.

Emme seemed pleased. “We haven’t had quesadillas in a while. If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Quesadillas it is,” he announced, shifting his focus to Justine. “You’ll join us?”

Justine bit her lip. She didn’t want to interfere with his work. She also didn’t want to tell him what to do, or who to do business with. But he needed to know, right? He needed to know that he was potentially jumping into business with Satan and his mistress.

“I, um …”

The girls looked at her with hopeful gazes.

“Please,” Aya begged.

Emme blinked big, brown, puppy-dog eyes at her.

“Sure,” she finally said. “I do need to shower and pack though.”

“Dinner’s an hour away anyway,” he said, completely unaware of the cyclone brewing inside of her. “Lots of time.” Then he took off to the kitchen, whistling.

Justine dragged her feet up the stairs and into the shower where she washed away all the sunscreen, sand, and sweat from the day. But she couldn’t wash away the mantle of anger and grief that wove itself into such a tight tapestry around her chest and throat that it threatened to cut off her breathing.

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