Page 28 of Single Dad Dilemma
She nodded, zooming in on the shots I’d taken of the red rock formations. “You like hiking?”
“Sometimes.” I tapped on another one. “That was too hard for me, so I didn’t make it all the way up, but the view at sunrise was incredible.”
“Wow,” she breathed.
Bryce popped up from his spot on the floor. Larry had inched close enough that Bryce could gently scratch his back.
“What’s that?” He pointed to another series of pictures higher up in my camera roll as his sister scrolled.
“That’s the lighthouse in Holland, Michigan.” I picked one of the pictures so he could see it. “Lake Michigan was pretty rad. I visited a couple years ago when I was trying my hand as a travel influencer.”
“My dad and uncle were born in Michigan.”
“Yeah? I liked it there. People were nice. Only spent a few weeks along the lakeshore and then made my way back down into Chicago for a while. Turns out, I hate social media, so I didn’t last very long and I sure didn’t make any money doing it.”
Maggie nodded, eyes wide. “It’s a jungle out there.”
“What did you do in Chicago?”
I smiled. “Worked as a barista for a few months. A friend of mine from high school let me crash at her place; then when the weather started turning cold, I hightailed it back south. Stayed in New Orleans for about six months.”
“I think I’d forget all the different places if I moved around so much.” Bryce lingered on a photo of the beach, zooming in on the swell of the waves and the blood-orange sunset that made the water glow.
“Sometimes you forget details, yes.”
“Don’t you want to remember everything?” Maggie asked. “I would.”
“Every new place I go—even if I’m just visiting for the weekend—I get a postcard,” I told them. “I have a book I can take with me becauseit’s easy to pack. And on the back of each postcard, I write down my favorite things from that place. Memories I don’t want to forget.”
“Cool,” Maggie breathed. “Can we look at it sometime?”
“Sure.”
“Where’s your favorite place you’ve ever lived?” Bryce asked.
“That’s a hard question to answer,” I told him. “They’re all really different. The sights, the food, the people.”
“Where are people the nicest?” he asked.
I pulled in a deep breath and let it out as I thought about that. “I tend to find a few nice people everywhere I go,” I answered. “But I spent about five months between Michigan, Illinois, and Iowa. They were really friendly. Big fans of bringing over casseroles when they see someone new in the neighborhood.” I tilted my head. “And banana bread.”
He leaned down to kiss the top of Larry’s snout, and that little shit dog gave him such an adoring look, I couldn’t help but shake my head. If I tried that, he’d probably bite my face off. “Why didn’t you stay there?”
“Winter,” I said seriously. “I’ve made it this long in my life avoiding it.”
The kids looked at each other. “Lily? I hate to break this to you ...” Maggie said slowly.
“I know. Why did I come here?” I glanced outside, where a few inches had fallen overnight. It was beautiful, sure. Everything was blanketed in white, fluffy shit, and yes, I could admit that it did make the Christmas vibes stronger. More Christmas-y. “I guess I wanted to try something really different this time. Even if it means all that cold stuff.”
“Dad told us all about lake-effect snow before we moved here. He used to live in Michigan, so he knows all about it.”
“Yeah, I don’t know what that means.” I glanced between them. “Isn’t that just normal snow?”
They shook their heads. Profusely.
“Huh. Well, I guess I’ll figure it out, won’t I?”
“It’s a Great Lakes thing.” Bryce hopped up and transferred Larry to his lap. “At least you can go sledding in snow. Can’t do that anywhere else.”
