Page 72 of Single Chance

“Deal.”

As I cut the chicken and she mixed the bread ingredients, I said, “How do you think I should handle Sam not coming home after school?”

“Did she break a rule?”

“Not exactly, since she let me know where she was going.”

“But she usually comes home.”

“Lately she has.” I tossed the last of the chicken into the pot. “She didn’t when she was hanging out with Lacey and company.”

“The mean girls?”

“The bad influences, we’ll call them.”

“But Kinsley’s different.”

“She seems to be. She hasn’t been caught drinking on the beach with boys to my knowledge.”

“Excellent,” Rowan said with a touch of humor. “Today had to be rough on Sam. The pregnancy is huge, and the way she found out didn’t help. Did she say when she’d be home?”

“‘Later.’” I mimicked my teenager’s defiance as I added seasonings and the rest of the ingredients to the pot.

“I’d say as long as she comes home at a decent hour, let it go. You have other battles to fight.”

I nodded as everything she said clicked into place in my head. “You make a lot of sense.”

“There’ll be friction with her about my pregnancy for who knows how long. If it were my kid, I think I’d cut her slack on things like going to a friend’s unless she breaks a rule or outwardly defies you. But she’s not my kid, and I don’t know anything about parenting, so…”

“Nobody knows anything about parenting.” It came out sounding flippant, but I meant every word. “In my dads’ group, everyone says the same thing. Even West, who has three kids… He says none of them are the same, not even his twins, so you never feel like you know what you’re doing.”

“I’m hoping you have some baby basics down for this one,” she said, pointing at her middle. “It’s been a lot of years since I changed a diaper, back when I babysat as a teenager.”

“Which was probably about the same time Sam was in diapers, so it’s been just as long for me.” I’d said it as a joke, but as I ran the math, I realized it was likely true.

“Good thing we decided to co-parent, huh?”

Her tone was lighthearted, but mine went serious when I said, “Doing it alone is not a picnic.”

Rowan came forward with the baking dish ready to go in the oven. I stepped out of her way so she could put it in. When she straightened, she sought eye contact and put a hand on my arm.

“Chance, I think you’re doing okay with Sam. There might be bobbles, as there is with literally every single teenager on the planet, but you’ve instilled good stuff in her. Whatever you’ve been doing, she’s got a solid foundation. I can tell.”

“Most days it doesn’t feel good enough.”

“Itisgood enough. I’m sure she’s had a shit show of a day, but deep down, she knows you love her.”

I hoped like hell that was true. Who ever fucking knew?

What I did know was that it was damn nice to have someone to talk to about it. Someone who reassured me, seemingly genuinely.

Sure, I had the dad group, but I saw them less often than I used to, and half the time, we spent our evenings talking about anythingbutour kids.

Another thing that was damn nice was spending time with Rowan. Having another adult to talk to not only about Sam but about anything. A friendly conversationalist who didn’t make me doubt every word I said, wondering if it would be the wrong thing.

“Thanks for helping with dinner,” I said a little later as we sat down with our soup and a plate piled high with steaming cornbread.

“I’m happy to. Especially on days when I get a short power nap beforehand.”

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