Page 8 of The Single Dad

I spent the whole day going back and forth between three sites—one was nearly finished, the second half-done, and the last had just been demolished. Even as tasks piled up and I was needed pretty much everywhere, my mind kept straying to Noelle.

Tomtom doesn’t take easily to people, especially those he has just met, but he must have felt something about Noelle becausehe didn’t even spare me a glance when I said goodbye. He was busy laughing at something she said. Not just laughing but holding her hand as he did so.

Watching that moment made my chest expand. Something thick lodged in my throat, and I had to turn away because it was too much. My feelings tangled in aching knots, and while I waited for the truck to warm, I replayed the scene over and over in my head.

Noelle at home with Tomtom. It was like the last piece of a puzzle slotting into place, as though we’ve always had a place for her at our table, at our home, in our hearts.

It’s past five when I get home, rubbing the exhaustion from my eyes, ready to collapse after the longest day imaginable. But then I see it, and it stops me in my tracks.

Tomtom.

Riding his bike.

On his own.

Not even just that. He’s riding and laughing out loud, clearly having a grand time.

I freeze, barely able to process what I’m seeing. The same kid who’s thrown a fit every time I tried to teach him, who swore up and down that bikes were evil and he’ll never touch one even if it’s the end of the world,is now pedaling across the driveway like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

And Noelle is by his side, clapping, laughing, whistling.

“Look at you, champ!” she calls, pure pride in her voice. “I told you you could do it!”

Tomtom laughs again, wobbling slightly before righting himself, his face shining with excitement. He pedals toward me, his face beaming. “Dad! Dad, look!”

I don’t even realize I’m moving until I’m meeting him halfway and standing at the edge of the driveway, my chest tight with something big, something overwhelming.

Pride. Happiness. Love.

For my son, for his stubborn determination.

And for her.

Not even twenty-four hours with us, and she already did this. She has already changed our lives in the best way.

She turns then, meeting my gaze, her hazel eyes still sparkling, and my throat goes dry. Noelle fits seamlessly into our lives.

“You’re home,” she says, breathless. Home. Yes. Home. “Surprise.” She lifts her arms in the air, and my heart stutters with an unnamed emotion.

I exhale a laugh, shaking my head. “How did you do it? I’ve been trying to get him to learn how to ride a bike, but he hated it.”

Noelle looks at Tomtom, her eyes softening. “I saw a neat trick online and thought I should try it. It worked.”

“Nono, did you see that?” Tomtom yells, his fist in the air. “So cool, right? Am I cool?”

Noelle runs to him and scoops him into her arms. She twirls them around, and they both laugh.

Something warm unfurls in my chest, the feelings I’ve been burying the whole day unspooling inside me.

I really am in trouble.

At dinner that night, it feels different.

Not in a loud, obvious way, but in the quiet moments. The way she passes Tomtom his favorite piece of chicken (thigh part with the skin on) without him asking, the way she listens to his endless stories with real interest (“I had no idea! I thought T-rex was the biggest dinosaur!”), the way she glances at me across the table, her eyes catching mine as we share a knowing smile.

My son chatters away between bites, swinging his legs under the table, completely at ease. I knew he liked her last night, but now? Now he’s comfortable with her. Like she’s been here forever with us. Like she belongs in our small family.

I swallow a sip of my drink, forcing myself to stay grounded, to not get carried away by the way she looks sitting across from me. But it’s impossible.

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