Page 23 of Dating Her Brother's Best Friend

Eleanor, our little three-year-old dynamo, waddles into the kitchen, dragging a vibrant blanket behind her. Her hair's still a bedhead masterpiece, which she pulls off better than anyone. Just like her mother.

“Uncle Sawyer,” she chirps, commanding all my brother’s attention, “did you know my mommy has hair on her bottom?”

Sawyer chokes on his coffee, liquid spurting from his mouth, coating the breakfast bar in a sticky mess. His eyes are wide, caught between shock and laughter. My effort to keep a straight face is futile, and I bite my lip, attempting to stifle the chuckle bubbling up my throat. There’s something uniformly timeless about my spoiled little princess’ truth bombs.

“Eleanor!” I say when I’m able to speak without laughing. “Why don’t we keep Mommy’s secrets between us?”

Her eyes are earnest, considering the weight of this new responsibility. She nods solemnly. “Okay, Daddy,” she promises, and then she’s off, tiny feet padding away across the hardwood floors, blanket trailing behind her.

Sawyer, still catching his breath, wipes at the mess with a dish towel I toss his way. “The universe has a sick sense of humor,” he muses, shaking his head, his face accommodating a grin so wide it almost circles his head. “I can’t believe you ended up with the female version of Simon.”

“Don’t worry. My wife has it all under control,” I quip, leaning back and taking a leisurely sip of my now much-needed coffee.

He blows his nose to clear the coffee he snorted before chuckling. “I still can’t believe Caroline stayed with the school job,” he says, changing gears smoothly. “And left you at home with the kids. She’s one brave woman.”

“Yes, she is,” I agree. “It’s the perfect arrangement.” I shrug, unconcerned that some of my friends think I’m crazy for being a stay-at-home dad.

“You know, I really thought you’d give Dad a stroke when you skipped college and refused to work for the family business to go into the Army, but he somehow handled the shock and even got past it. Then you decided to be a stay-at-home dad while your wife works, and I figured this would be it. The thing to finally push Dad past his limit. Yet again, he surprised me and rolled with the flow. I have no fucking clue how you did it. You’re my hero,” Sawyer teases, rolling his eyes.

My brother doesn’t throw out compliments for no reason. “What do you want?”

“Can’t I give you a compliment without you assuming…”

I interrupt him before he’s able to really get going. “Cut the bullshit. What do you want?”

“Tickets to the Riggers game next weekend.”

“You don’t have to kiss my ass for football tickets.” He knows I always have available tickets.

“Tickets for Simon’s entire second-grade class plus parents,” he clarifies, and I mentally run through all the favors Paxton owes me, wondering if it will be enough to cover that many tickets.

“Why do you want to take his entire class to the game?” My brother isn’t usually one for grand gestures like this.

“Well, you see…” He glances at the living room to make sure all the little ears are occupied with the cartoons. “Simon is trying to impress this girl.”

“Say no more.” There’s nothing more important than keeping the women in our lives happy. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Can we keep this between us until I find a way to break it to my wife?”

I bite my lip to keep from laughing. She’s going to kick his ass for this scheme. “Good luck with that one.”

“We live fucking crazy lives,” Sawyer comments, surveying the scattered chaos around my home.

“Yeah… but it’s our brand of crazy.” The corners of my mouth tug upward. “And I couldn’t be happier. Well, I could be a little happier if my wife lets me knock her up again. In fact, tonight I’m going to…”

“Stop.” Sawyer sticks his fingers in his ears, muttering, “La-la-la-la… I don’t want to hear this.”

“Tough shit,” I tell him and rub my middle finger up the side of my head facing away from my young and impressionable daughters.

“Dickhead.” He goes for the bullseye, using the nickname he used to torture me with when we were young.

“I’m still butt-hurt you told Caroline my middle name.”

“She was bound to find out at some point; I just used it to my advantage.”

It'sone of those typically chaotic Tuesday evenings at the Head household, the kind where you just hope to make it through with some semblance of order intact.

Caroline's been caught up with an especially long school board meeting, which leaves me in charge of our three rambunctious daughters and their chaotic nighttime routine.

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