Page 28 of Second Chance Baby

“Again, thanks for looking out for me, but I’m okay. I actually talked to John Gideon today. I might do some work with him for a while here and there.”

“Like Uncle Murphy?”

“Yeah. Like Uncle Murphy. Though he’s busier doing his programming stuff than construction these days.”

“He has a balanced life.”

Yep, she definitely sounded as if she was trying out to be a therapist. Not that she was wrong. It was just difficult to take advice from your ten-year-old kid.

Especially considering she knew so much more than I did about life.

Maybe I needed to put a priority on signing up for this therapy stuff. Not sure I had any time to waste.

Bridget ran down the steps outside of The Sherman, jogging over to the truck in her jeans, a sweater, and sneakers. Her blond hair was in a high ponytail and her face was makeup free. If I didn’t know better, I could pretend she was still in high school.

And maybe I could pretend to be still there too.

But then she slipped into the truck and tilted her head so the sun shined over her face as she put on her sunglasses and set her purse beside her feet. In that moment, she looked just like a mom.

My kid’s mom.

“Did you decide what snacks we’re gonna get?” Bridget asked brightly, picking up her purse to clutch it in her lap.

“Popcorn because Dad emptied us out. And maybe some Raisinets and M&Ms and some gummy worms. Oh, and we need more ice cream too.”

“That all sounds good. I shouldn’t be ready for all of that after the feast we just had, and yet I’m onboard. I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve seen a movie.”

“Oh, jeez. You’re just like him.” Carrington flopped back against her seat and clicked her belt back into place.

Bridget shot me a sidelong glance. “What do you mean?”

“He has no life but work, and you sound exactly the same.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say I have no life…” She trailed off and chewed on her fingernail. “Okay, yeah, I pretty much would. To be honest, I had time to read all of Penn’s series. I just thought it would make me sound lame that I binged it when I found it.”

“That you sucked down every single page of my brother’s long-ass series? Nooo.” Grinning, I started the truck. “Let’s go get some delicious junk food so we can watch a slew of spooky movies. Hopefully, ones with no traumatizing gore.”

“Are you worried about getting too scared, Dad?” Carrington’s giggles were a soothing sound I hadn’t realized I missed hearing.

Most of the time, she seemed happy enough, but there was no denying her mother’s presence was a good influence on her. And me too, I had to admit. I’d already smiled and laughed more today than I had in months.

Bridget seemed to be enjoying herself with us too. I’d caught her smiling at both of us when she might not have realized we were paying attention, and then she’d hurriedly looked away as if she was concerned about getting caught.

I drove us to the biggest, newest supermarket in the area, thinking maybe Bridget would like to check out something new here. I couldn’t keep from grinning as I pushed the cart down the aisles while Carrington chattered happily, suggesting we try thisnew kind of spicy chips, and oh, hey, maybe we could make this cheesy dip to go with our snacks?

Then Bridget suggested we get some fresh jalapeños to add an extra kick to our cheesy dip, so we had to search out the best ones along with some colorful peppers to make it more fun. All of that went into the cart too.

The trip down the candy aisle was truly mind-blowing. Carrington found more kinds of candy than I even knew existed, and between her and her mother, they needed every single one.

I couldn’t resist adding some of my own choices for them to try, from all sorts of nuts to a bunch of different gummy creations. Then I insisted on hitting the frozen section to grab some ice cream and a couple of gourmet pizzas we could have as meals or snacks, depending.

On the way out, I grabbed a rotisserie chicken, figuring what we didn’t eat could be sliced up for Carrington’s school lunches this week.

“Oh, lunch stuff,” Bridget commented, grabbing a huge box of mini bags of chips.

I already had stuff like that at home, but some of these were different flavors. And hey, perhaps Bridget was feeling domestic. If she was, I certainly wasn’t going to discourage her. She hadn’t gotten to be a regular mom nearly enough.

We checked out and headed to the truck to cram in all of our packages in the back. Carrington helped too, dancing around her mother as if suddenly grocery shopping was the most fun thing to do ever. She’d certainly never acted that way before but going shopping with her old man definitely wasn’t as entertaining as going with her mom too, who kept cracking us up with stories about shopping in Manhattan and all the eccentric people who lived in her building. Some of them snacked on some stuff that seemed completely weird.

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