Page 73 of Who's Your Daddy?

12. Peter

“Thank you, Mrs. Diaz,” I say, swallowing the last bite of food. “That was amazing.”

Our basketball game earlier was intense and left us absolutely famished. We always come over to Keith’s house for lunch after we leave the court because Mrs. Diaz’s cooking just hits the right spot. I think I scarfed down two helpings in less than five minutes.

“It’s Mrs. Hart,” Keith corrects from across the dining table.

He says that every time, but I keep calling her that just to annoy him. “I met her before you married her, so she’ll always be Mrs. Diaz to me.”

“That’s it?” Keith asks “No inappropriate comments? No overly flirtatious innuendo? Just a compliment about the food...and that’s it?”

His comment makes me realize just how much I flirt with his wife, because the absence of it is definitely noticeable. I look over at Mrs. Diaz, who’s sitting beside him.

“Mrs. Diaz,” I begin somberly, “it breaks my heart to say this, but I waited years for you. From the first day we met, I told you that if things didn’t work out with the hotshot lawyer, the option to date a younger, hotter guy was available to you. Since then, I have waited quietly in the shadows—”

Scott snickers beside me. “I wouldn’t say quietly. You’ve flirted shamelessly out in the open in front of everyone, including Keith.”

“The details don’t matter now,” I say with a dramatic sigh. “I waited, and you never came. I was forced to move on.”

She giggles and wipes away a fake tear. “I’m devastated.”

“Your tears and heartbreak are not enough to sway me. I’m a one-woman man now. I’m sorry, Mrs. Diaz, but you had your chance...and you lost it.”

Keith laughs. “Wow, it’s almost incredible to see how this baby has changed you.”

“Speaking about the baby, how is Lia doing?” Mrs. Diaz asks.

I tell her about Lia’s mood swings and fatigue, and she gives me advice on what to do to help where I can. The rest of the guys carry on talking, but I get wrapped up in an entire conversation about scheduled C-sections versus natural births. Both options scare the hell out of me, but I listen to every gory detail so that I’m adequately equipped to handle whatever birth option Lia decides on.

After we help clean up, Scott, Dylan and I say our goodbyes and walk back to our cars.

“Hey, Scott,” I say as he opens the door to his car. “You remember when Cat was working for that one client where she did those amazing 3D murals in the lobby of their office buildings?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think she’d be able to do something like that in the baby’s room but...we want the characters of Hotel Transylvania.”

Dylan’s grin spreads from ear to ear. He gets so excited about stuff like this. “Why Hotel Transylvania?”

“Well, it’s an inside joke. We...we have a thing about vampires.”

“We?” Scott stresses the word to make sure I’m aware of how my vocabulary is also changing. But that’s about all the shit he gives me today. “I’ll ask her for you, Pete. I’m sure she’ll love to do it. She’s working at a bakery now, but she doesn’t find it challenging enough. She wants to get back into her art again.”

“Okay, tell her to give me a call, will ya?”

“Sure.”

We get into our cars and drive off in separate directions. I stop off at the grocery store, then drive to Tori’s house to pick Lia up. She’s still trying to figure out how to navigate her way through her friendship with Tori and Shontelle. They’re friends, but they’re not really friends. Lia hangs out with them after work sometimes, but she still doesn’t open up to them much. She’s the same with Isabella and Cat when we hang with them in a group. She’s friendly and approachable. She chats and giggles, but there seems to be an invisible line she doesn’t want to cross, so all those relationships are very surface-level.

Thankfully, that kind of behavior is restricted to them. I get to see a totally different Lia. She tells me about her fears. She shows me her vulnerabilities. The mask of stoicism has been packed away. I personally never want to see it again. I love witnessing these different sides of her that used to lie hidden beneath the mask.

She shows affection without restraint. She laughs without inhibition. That playful side of her is what I like most. It’s silly and immature, and when mixed with her inexperience and a mild element of naivety, she sometimes reminds me more of a high schooler than an adult. But that’s my favorite thing about her because it takes the pressure off somehow. Everything doesn’t seem so serious.

She’s chatting with Tori outside on the driveway when I pull up to the curb. Tori has a toddler in her arms. The kid must be about three or four, and Lia is gushing over how cute he is.

Eventually, she ends the conversation with a hug that looks kinda stiff and awkward and walks over to my car.

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