Page 33 of Christmas with the Baby Daddy

To wish for a lot longer than just a Christmas with my baby daddy.

14

ZACH

Iwasn’t sure what the protocol for catering was, but when I asked Grandma Jenny what I should wear and when I should get there, she told me black slacks and a white button-down would do. I arrived a few minutes later than I thought I would since quite a few vehicles were transporting booth and tent parts downtown for the annual holiday affair. Back when I was a kid, Kevin and I would hang out by the ice hockey things they set up, then score whatever free candies and treats from the vendors lined up along Main Street. Now, from the looks of how many things were being taken in preparation, it seemed like it had evolved into something more like a festival.

The traffic didn’t hold me up for too long, and I got to the same venue hall I’d taken Blake back to last night for that package.

I wonder if she wrapped it?

What was it?

I didn’t know George, but I could tell that Rory had been way off the mark in describing the boy to be a sporty, tough guy.

Maybe he likes to read? Build things? Make art?

If there was one thing I regretted about my childhood, it would’ve been the lack of creativity or the freedom to create. My father was one of a long line of celebrated military men, a tough guy who didn’t think boys should bother with drawing or painting for the sake of having a hobby. Footballs over crayons. Action figures over stuffed animals. I loved my old man, and he never pushed any toxic mentality on me, but he obviously was stuck in the old-fashioned and generational habits of “boys being boys.”

I bet that’s changed about parenting now, though, right?I was clueless about how to raise kids. I’d never thought about it or having a family—how could I when I was always overseas and away? Deep in my heart, I hoped that the way I was raised would’ve equipped me to be a well-balanced adult to be able to not screw up another generation.

As I entered the rear doors to the venue hall, I sought out Blake. Before I’d look for my Grandma, I wanted to see Blake’s small smile and know she was near. I hadn’t volunteered to help tonight for my grandma. She would’ve asked if she really needed the help. I’d merely stepped up as a way to be able to spend more time with Blake and not Reagan.

I was getting more used to the idea that this Blake wasn’t the girl I used to know or the lover I shared one night with. She was a single mother now. It hardly mattered, because as I wove through the commotion of the kitchen and looked for her black hair braided back in a complicated twist and her green eyes so full of kindness and patience, I would like all versions of her.

Before I could put her too high on a pedestal, I spotted her laying out containers of food that would be served out. Without her acknowledging my presence yet, I was free to look my fill. Still petite and short, but those curves. Fuck me, she’d grown into a sexy figure that enticed me to reach out and grab on. Meat on her bones, she was no skinny stick figure—just the way I liked. I wanted a woman who’d stand up to take a pounding, like that one night she’d wanted to distract herself with me.

I recalled how I’d fisted her silky hair and brushed back the long waves when they got in her face. Raw, uninhibited. That was what I remembered of the mild-mannered woman. She’d come alive that night in my arms, as I made her cry out in ecstasy.

She turned, realizing I was checking her out, and just as suddenly as she’d pivoted to face me, she fumbled the large bowl in her hands.

“Uh-oh.” I darted forward to catch it, chuckling.

“I didn’t realize you were there,” she admitted, securing a firmer hold on the large bowl. Now that I could see her face, I admired the sweet blush and embarrassed smile. She kept pushing me away, maintaining her distance. It would’ve made me assume she wanted nothing to do with me at all, but those moments of being shy and embarrassed had me realizing Ididstill affect her.

“I told you I’d come to help tonight,” I reminded her.

“Hang your coat up over there, Zach,” Grandma Jenny said as she breezed through with a container of steaming food. “Blake’ll show you around for this gig. Just shadow her.”

Gladly.I hung up my coat and washed my hands, reporting to the woman I intended to stick with all through the night.

Blake huffed a weak laugh when I returned. She handed me plates to set out for portioning, and I fell into a pattern with her without needing to be told.

“And why are you helping tonight?” she asked.

I shrugged, smiling at her.

“Just to get out of a date with Reagan?” she guessed.

“Not only because of that,” I replied.

We got too busy arranging plates to really talk more, but I enjoyed the busyness, nonetheless. With her next to me, I got to see another side of her. The industrious and hard-working version of her, but also the sweetheart who would smile and coach the younger and newer part-timers. She’d make a good boss, and I assumed that trait bled into her parenting style. Her son wasn’t the bully in trouble, but instead the kid who’d stood up for another. She had to be doing something right.

“You just set them down and back up,” Blake said as we held the trays. She frowned, watching me. “Are you sure you’ve got it?”

I mocked a frown at her. “I think I can carry a plate or two.”

“But that’s five on a tray, and you said you had shoulder surgery.” She shook her head, reaching for the dishes to remove a couple. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

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