Page 47 of Single Dad Dilemma
I nodded. “The fun uncle,” I said lightly. “I’ve heard all about him.”
Barrett’s smile was faint, hardly even a real smile—more like a begrudging softening to the normally firm line of his mouth. “I’m sure you have. Kids don’t see him as much as they’d like, but he’s just as busy as I am.” He rolled his neck. “He plays for Denver.”
“Parents must have one hell of a gene pool.”
He huffed a small noise of amusement. “I guess. I never really thought about it.”
“Lily, can we open your presents tonight?” Maggie asked.
“Sure, if that’s the one you pick, but it doesn’t have to be just because I’m here.”
Bryce pursed his lips and stared between the box I’d brought for him and the other presents marked as his under the tree. “I think I’m going to open my present from Mom.”
Barrett raised his eyebrows. “You sure?”
He nodded. “Then I can tell her thank you when we talk to her in the morning. Is that okay?” Bryce asked me. He looked nervous.
“Of course,” I assured him. “It’s your Christmas, bud. Open whatever you’d like.”
His shoulders dropped as he exhaled. “’Kay, cool.”
“I’m opening Lily’s,” Maggie announced. “I get presents every year from Mom, and they’renevergood.”
“Maggie,” Barrett admonished gently.
“What?” She shrugged. “I’m not saying anything bad about Mom; I know that’s not allowed. I’m talking about her gifts.”
I cut him a quick sideways glance and was surprised by how exhausted he looked at the topic shift. It was human nature, to wantto know more about what had happened between him and his ex. The kids didn’t talk about her much, and I didn’t want to pry.
That was a lie. I totally did.
The important part was that I hadrestraintand, like a mature adult, I managed to use it when it mattered. Sort of.
As oldest, Bryce went first. The gift was meticulously wrapped, shiny silver paper and a black ribbon crisscrossing over the top. He took his time opening it at the edges, until Maggie groaned.
“You’re so slow. Just rip it.”
“I don’t like ripping it,” he argued. “Rip your own.”
Inside the box was a button-down dress shirt with a designer pattern, the brand expensive enough that my eyebrows lifted of their own volition. That shirt probably cost five hundred dollars.
Bryce put on a brave face, lifting it up out of the box. The pattern was a large repeat of the brand logo. I rolled my lips between my teeth, imagining Bryce, the kid who always wore sports T-shirts and jerseys and athletic pants, throwing that on before school.
He winced when the shirt was fully exposed. “It’s ... nice.”
Maggie fell over in helpless giggles. “You’re not going to wear that, are you?”
Barrett rubbed the edge of his jaw, eyeing the shirt. “Maggie, enough. Maybe he likes it.”
“I really don’t,” Bryce said under his breath. Then he set aside the shirt and saw a five-hundred-dollar bill on the bottom of the box. “Whoa. I’m rich.”
Next to me, Barrett let out a barely contained sigh. “I’ll put that in your bank account, bud. We’re not going to keep that much cash for your wallet.”
“Aw, why not?” At the look his dad gave him, Bryce sighed. “Fine. It can go in the bank.”
“You can still buy something. It’s your money, but we just want to make sure we take care of it.”
Bryce perked up. “Whatever I want?”
