Page 11 of Essence of his Soul

“I’m not trying to take over,” he said, his voice calm and steady as he set the pizza box on the table. “I’m just bringing food and spending time with my son.” He raised his hands in surrender, showing he wasn’t here to start a fight.

I frowned, eyeing him suspiciously. “You should’ve called first.”

He smirked. “I don’t have your number, remember?”

“Listen, Mark,” I began, feeling the tension ease as I watched him gently stroke Tyler’s curls. “Fine.” I blew out a breath. “You can spend time with your son.”

A flicker of surprise crossed his face, then quickly turned into a smile. “Then I guess I’d better feed him, huh?”

I found myself softening just a little bit more. “Yes. Mashed potatoes and string beans are in the microwave.”

Mark shrugged off his jacket, hanging it over a chair, thencasually moved to the microwave, pulling out Tyler’s food and sitting down in a chair in front of him. Watching him so naturally slip into father mode hit me harder than I wanted to admit.

“Essence.” Halfway to the laundry room, I heard him call my name.

I turned to find his eyes on me, with a look of quiet determination. “We still need to talk before I leave,” he said, his voice soft, but there was something dangerous behind it, something I wasn’t sure I was ready for.

I held his gaze longer than intended, feeling that familiar pull between us. I nodded quickly and escaped into the laundry room, needing space from how he made me feel.

“Damn,” I muttered under my breath as I loaded Tyler’s clothes into the washing machine, pouring in the detergent with more force than necessary. Yesterday, I had let him kiss me, and tonight, I was turned on just by seeing him being a dad. What is wrong with me? This was the same man who walked away two years ago.

I needed to get it together.

When I walked back into the kitchen, Mark was fastening a clean bib around Tyler’s neck, his movements calm and practiced. The other bib, smeared with banana, was tossed on the counter. He tested the food’s temperature with his hand before offering Tyler the first spoonful.

“All right, Champ, let’s show your dad how it’s done,” Mark said with that warm, rich voice that melted me in ways I hated to admit.

Tyler squealed, kicking his little legs and opening his mouth wide as Mark fed him. I couldn’t help but smile. As much as I wanted to stay mad at Mark, watching him so effortlessly step into fatherhood made it hard. Tyler looked between us, grinning wide, drooling, and bits of food running down his chin. It wasenough to make me tear up.

Mark glanced over at me, catching the emotion on my face. He smiled softly. “I got this. Why don’t you go relax for a bit?”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” I tossed the dirty bib into the laundry, and while Mark wasn’t looking, I carried the pizza box to the living room and sank into the sofa.

As the six o’clock news played in the background, I could hear the sounds of Mark and Tyler from the kitchen—laughter, soft murmurs, and the unmistakable bond forming between father and son. I stretched out on the sofa, letting the rhythm of their conversation lull me into a peaceful calm….

Our waiter slid the plates in front of us with a flourish, like he knew he was delivering something special, then disappeared as quickly as he’d arrived. I didn’t waste a second before diving into the blackened catfish, and the first bite hit me with a burst of spice and flavor that made me moan out loud.

“Oh, man! That’s delicious,” I groaned, savoring the moment.

Mark’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he watched me, a slow smile creeping across his lips. He looked like he was enjoying the meal almost as much as he was enjoying my reaction. Other than a few playful comments, we ate in comfortable silence. Occasionally, I’d catch him stealing a glance, and I’d do the same. It wasn’t awkward—just this quiet vibe between us, like we didn’t need to fill the air with endless conversation.

After dessert, Mark suggested a walk, and I agreed without even thinking twice.

Outside, the October night was warm, with a soft breeze moving through the air. We strolled around Silver Lake, the full moon hanging low, casting a glow on the water. The stars sprinkled the sky, adding a touch of magic to the whole scene.We’d barely walked a few steps before I had to stop.

“These shoes are killing my feet,” I groaned, slipping off my new high heels with a sigh of relief.

Mark raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Then why wear them?”

I rolled my eyes, trying not to wince. “Because they’re new and make my legs look long.”

He laughed, flashing those pearly whites under the streetlights. “Leave it to a shrimp to find a way to look tall.”

I gave him a playful punch on the arm and giggled. “I’m not that short.”

“If you say so,” he teased, his smirk deepening.

We kept walking, and suddenly, I felt his hand slip into mine. He laced our fingers together, and the warmth of his touch sent a shock of electricity straight up my arm, making my heart skip. Just like that, the air between us felt different. Holding hands was enough to change the vibe entirely—like we’d crossed some unspoken line.