Page 30 of Second Chance Baby

“Or I can do it,” Bridget said, flexing her arm. “I work out a lot more than I used to. Let me at the power tools.”

“Oh, yeah? I mean, it’s normally my job but if you really want to, why not?”

“Sharing the jobs is how it should go, right?” Before I could answer, she waited until I’d parked and hopped out of the truck. “Show me where to find the tools, and I’ll get started before it gets all the way dark.”

I frowned, oddly unsettled. Was she not happy with how the property looked? Or was she really just trying to help?

Hell, maybe I should just let her do what she wanted to do and not overthink any of it.

I hit the garage door button on my fob, and the door rolled upward, revealing the walls of tools. Many, many tools that I hadn’t made much use of in far too long. “There you go. Want me to run through how to use any of them?”

“Nope. You forget I used to do this stuff years ago right after we got the house.”

That was true. Early on, she’d shown a definite aptitude and affinity for lawn work. She’d loved being outside, especially when it was nice in the fall, and our funds had been on the lower side at the beginning, so we’d definitely appreciated anything we didn’t have to hire out for.

“I’ll get started now before we lose the last of the light. Then I’ll meet you both inside for spooky movie night.”

I stared after her as she ran into the garage to select a couple tools. I felt as if I was standing in the past, watching the girl I loved set to work on our first home.

Maybe it would end up being our forever home too. There were definitely extra bedrooms if we needed them.

Getting ahead of yourself, dude.

“She’s good at that stuff, Dad?”

“Yeah, she is. Really good.” I started unloading stuff from the back and carted in the first few bags. “Don’t forget the ice cream bag. Don’t want it to melt out here,” I called, heading up the walk and inside to dump everything on the kitchen counters.

Carrington followed, carting a few bags, which she immediately started unloading and putting the stuff away. “Do you think she’ll, like, spend the night?”

There was a thorny question I didn’t have an answer to. Even if I did, I didn’t think it was the best conversation to have with my kid.

“If she wants to, she’ll be welcome here. But I’m leaving all the balls in her court.”

“Yeah. That’s good. You know, so not to pressure her.”

I frowned, absorbing her words. Maybe she had a point. At least she was a female, so that already meant she knew more than I did. “Yeah. We can let her know she’s wanted, but the decision is solely up to her.”

“That’s a good plan.” She surprised me by rubbing my arm. “Daddy, you’re a good catch. Everyone says so.”

I couldn’t help laughing. “Is that so? I’m almost afraid to ask who.”

“Just you know people in my class and their moms. You’re considered a DILF.” She did air quotes around the acronym, and I didn’t ask her to explain it, because unfortunately, I knew all too well what that meant. I wasn’t very pleased thatsheknew what it meant, however.

Then again, I was still stuck on her seeing scary movies I hadn’t even known about.

“Am I just hopelessly behind?” I muttered, putting more of the things we’d purchased away by rote.

Peanuts and chips and endless gummy snacks were stacked in the cupboards. The jug of milk to go with the roll of cookie dough I’d picked up on impulse both went into the fridge. The ice cream carton I found room for in the freezer.

Then I looked back to see the room was now empty, though I could hear the buzz of the power clipper outside clear as day. Reminding me this situation was now very different than any we’d ever experienced before as a family.

I took the rotisserie chicken out and started carving off pieces for Carrington’s lunch, building her a couple quick sandwiches that I then put in her reusable lunch sack along with a couple mini snack bags. Pretzels and Doritos and a banana, the last one we had left.

Next shopping trip, I’d have to replenish fruits and cereal and other basics we were low on.

Couldn’t live by junk food alone, unfortunately.

To give myself something to do, I quickly whipped up the cheesy dip we’d bought and chopped up the peppers we’d selected to add to it. Once the dip was made, I put it in the center of our chip platter and ripped open bags of snacks to arrangearound the dip. I carried the platter into the living room, setting it on the low coffee table before I grabbed some extra throws out of the storage ottoman and dumped them on the end of the couch.

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