Page 53 of Single Dad Dilemma
Surprising.
And what now? The sight of my daughter’s present, something thoughtful that would likely be her favorite gift of the year, tugged at that empty spot in my chest that was feeling things long unfelt. On top of the box was the card she gave Maggie, and with a sigh, I bent down to pick it up.
Her handwriting was neat and small.
Maggie,
You are one of the best gifts I’ve gotten this year. Thank you for climbing through the fence and making my life just a bit sweeter. Please self-destruct this letter before my hardcore reputation is ruined. Merry Christmas, my favorite little wild thing. I hope you never lose who you are right now.
Always,
Lily T.
Emotion tightened my throat as I thought of what something like that would mean to my daughter, but I swallowed it away. To feel seen and appreciated during a stretch of time when we were ironing out so many kinks in our new life—it was something Maggie would remember forever.
Slowly, I sank down on the couch, my head reeling. All it took was one day, and so many carefully constructed barriers could be irrevocably shaken. I wasn’t even sure how to go about erecting them again.
It was good that I hadn’t kissed Lily. Only madness would’ve followed.
It was good because I didn’t want to kiss her.
I didn’t want to know what sounds she made. Or if her lips were sweet and soft. It was entirely possible that all this time with no female companionship had simply forced my brain in her direction because I was mildly curious. There was no big, dark, unnamed thing swimming under the surface, no matter what it had felt like standing in the cold with her.
Like everything else in my life, I could slot her into the space where she made the most sense. Define her in a way that was clear so that the way I defined myself remained the same.
Yes. I could do that. I’d made a living being able to do that with every other facet of my life. It was why I was successful.
Redefining Lily was the only course of action. That was why, as I laid my head back and stared up at the ceiling, I thought about dark-blue eyes until I fell asleep.
Chapter Thirteen
Lily
“I think I need new friends.”
Larry sighed, a disgruntled little sound, and merely burrowed farther down into the fuzzy blanket close to the fireplace. His buggy eyes were barely visible, but he was at least looking at me, so there was that.
“I’m serious, you’re terrible at this. It’s Christmas Day and you won’t even listen to my predicament.”
I picked at the edge of my pajamas—yes, I was still in pajamas because no one could tell me not to be on Christmas Day—chest heavy and stomach unsettled as my overthinking reached wild new heights. I probably had bags under my eyes the size of lemons because that overthinking had elbowed right into my REM cycle.
Normally, I slept like a baby. Every night.
But last night? I had my own Ebenezer Scrooge moment. Haunted by the ghost of me. Past Lily, who did not think through what she was doing. This was what happened when you didn’t people very much. All it took was two cute kids and a Captain von Trapp fantasy come to life, and I was going around acting like a wild animal. I couldn’t take me anywhere, and that was a good lesson for the future.
“I don’t know why I did it,” I said quietly. “It’s like I can’t help myself sometimes, you know? He’s just so ... just so contained. Ican never tell what he’s thinking. And I just wanted to make him do something. React.”
Larry blinked.
“I used to do this a lot, you know.” I stretched my feet out closer to the fire, sighing happily when the heat penetrated through my socks. “Push at people to try and get a reaction. It drove Mom and Dad crazy, didn’t it?” I laughed quietly, swallowing the lump in my throat. “The Button Pusher. That’s what Aaron called me. You probably remember, don’t you?”
The dog closed his eyes and sighed.
“Fine. We don’t have to talk about it if it makes you uncomfortable.” I wiggled my toes. “What should we do today? I can’t sit here and talk about Barrett all day. That would be ... embarrassing. And silly. Wouldn’t it be silly?”
He was unmoved, his eyes still shut.
“Larry,” I said. Whined. Whined petulantly.
