Page 36 of Challenged by the Single Dad

“Why not?” Aya asked. “I’d have lived a good life. And animals need food too.”

“You’re a very strange little person,” Emme murmured.

“Head in the truck, Aya,” Bennett said, always the serious one.

“But I’m dying.” Aya was always overly dramatic.

“I don’t mean to,” Silas said with a pout. “I can’t control how bad my farts are. And I don’t want to miss out on pizza. What am I supposed to do? Hold in my farts and explode?” He glanced at Dom. “I would explode, right?”

“You would just be very uncomfortable. I don’t think you would explode.” Dom leaned down and kissed his son’s head.

“Justine, you’re a doctor. I would explode, right?” Silas asked, clearly not believing his father.

“No,” Justine said. “You would not explode. Your dad is right. You’d just be really uncomfortable and have an upset, painful tummy. Farts are good.”

“But they smell so bad,” Aya whined.

“We’re almost home,” Bennett said, turning off the main road and onto their laneway.

Clint was behind them with Talia and Brooke. Then Wyatt, Vica, and Wyatt’s two boys—Griffon and Jake—were the caboose of their convoy in Wyatt’s new truck.

Bennett pulled up to the security gate, leaned out the window, and punched in the code. It slowly swung open, and they all drove through.

“All right, kiddos. You know the drill. It’s a school day tomorrow. That means quick shower, brush teeth, and off to bed,” Bennett said. “No time for stories or goofing off.”

“That goes double for you,” Dom said to Silas as Bennett parked in front of his house.

They all bailed out and Aya continued to make a big stink about the stink, sucking in big gulps of air.

“Aya, knock it off. Don’t make Silas feel bad. He can’t help it,” Bennett said, giving his daughter a dirty look as he unlocked his house.

Aya’s face turned remorseful. “Sorry, Si. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

Silas, the sensitive soul that he was, shrugged and retreated inward a little. “It’s okay. I’m sorry I almost killed you.”

Aya hugged him and he hugged her back.

“See you in the morning,” Aya said, skipping after her sister into the house.

Dom growled playfully and scooped his kid up under one arm, holding him like a football, with Silas’s bag of candy and prizes in his other hand. “Come on, Spiderman. Let’s turn you back into Peter Parker.”

Silas giggled—and farted—as Dom jogged to his front door. “Dad! It’s me. Silas.”

Dom plunked him down on the porch and blinked at him. “Silas? Is that you?”

Silas giggled some more. “You know it is.”

Dom ruffled his kid’s head and unlocked the front door. “You heard your uncle. Shower, brush teeth, and bedtime.”

Nodding, Silas took off upstairs, only farting twice before he reached the top.

While his kid got ready for bed, Dom got ready to head down to the beach.

No matter the weather, he’d gone down to the beach and made a small altar for Remy every year since she passed five years ago. He thought about making one for her at home and involving Silas. His kid got so easily spooked by things like that though, that he didn’t want Silas to get upset or scared thinking ghosts entered their home.

He’d only been one year old when Remy died. He didn’t remember her, even though Dom did his best to talk to Silas about her and remind their son of his mother.

It wasn’t marigold season, but even before she passed, Remy—who took Día de los Muertos very seriously—had a deal with the local nursery, and they always made sure to have marigolds for her this time of year. Dom made sure to keep that deal alive, and picked them up a day or two before he needed them.

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