Page 20 of Faking It With the Grumpy Single Dad

Shortly before noon, I glance at my watch and decide that it’s time to head downstairs to check on the boys and start making lunch plans. Eric and the guys have already gone home. I’ve been on the second floor, finishing up the grueling process of peeling wallpaper off the walls of one the guest bedrooms.

As I make my way toward the landing, I hear Eli’s voice echoing up from the nook I’ve sequestered them away in.

When I’m halfway down the stairs, however, I feel a jolt of surprise when his cheerful, boyish voice is answered not by Cody’s slightly softer tone, but by a warm, feminine one.

I hurry toward the sound. Moments later, I find Poppy perched on one of the window seats between Eli and Cody. My youngest son is angling his handheld gaming console toward her, murmuring an explanation that I can’t quite hear, and Eli is helping out by pointing a little too aggressively at the tiny screen.

All three of them look up at my entrance.

“Hi!” chirps Poppy. She rises from the cushion and smooths down the front of her white sundress. “I hope you don’t mind—I was just learning everything there is to know about Kirby. Your boys are very sweet.”

“Sorry,” I blurt. “I, um, should’ve let you know I’d be bringing them. It’s just that I couldn’t find a—”

Poppy waves me off. “It’s totally okay. Are you hungry?”

“Yes!” the boys exclaim in unison, even though the question wasn’t technically directed at them.

“Uh…” I answer.

Truthfully, I’m baffled that she seems so natural around kids. She doesn’t strike me as the sort of person who’d be good aroundthem, given that she grew up touring with adult rockstars and has probably spent the past decade or so exclusively rubbing shoulders with other childless socialites.

Poppy beams at Eli and Cody. “That’s great! Because I ordered way too much at the Siren & Sword. Everything on their menu lookedsogood. I think I’ve got, like, five different entrees out in the kitchen.”

Thanks to the demolition process, the so-called kitchen is currently nothing more than three bare walls, a plastic folding table, and some wooden stools, but Poppy has handled it all in stride. In fact, I don’t think I’ve heard her complain about it even once.

The boys leap up and scurry off in the direction that Poppy points them, leaving me standing alone with her in the sunny nook.

Her smile softens. “I didn’t know you had kids.”

I nod. “For eleven years now.”

“They look just like you.”

“They have their mother’s eyes, though.”

Something in her smile falters, but she recovers quickly. “I also didn’t know you had a wife.”

“No,” I reply too quickly. I sound like an awkward fool. “I mean, I did have a wife, yes. But she passed away about eight years ago. Car accident. The boys were too young to remember her.”

“Oh. Wow. I’m really sorry, Joe.”

I shrug. “Thanks.”

“So, you’ve been raising them on your own?”

“My mom helps out a lot. And their maternal grandparents drive out to see them whenever they can. But… yeah. Being a single dad is basically all I know nowadays.”

“That must be hard.”

“It is what it is.”

For some reason, that gets a quiet chuckle out of her. “Indeed, it is.” She nods her chin in the direction of the kitchen, where I can already hear the boys digging through whatever feast she brought. “Come on. You’re doing hard labor on a Saturday. At least let me feed you.”

When she smiles at me again, I can’t help myself from answering it in kind. I have to admit that I don’t smile much these days. Not unless the boys are acting like goofballs. Weirdly, it’s nice to have a reason to smile at someone my own age.

“Sure,” I tell her. “Thanks, Poppy.”

Chapter Seven: Poppy

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