Page 59 of Single Dad Dilemma
“Not tonight,” I continued, softening my answer with a smile. “But thank you for inviting me.”
Her shoulders slumped. “Okay.”
Barrett’s jaw twitched, and, shifting his face forward again, he rolled up the window, pulling his truck into the driveway without another word. The man from Christmas Eve was seemingly gone, the wall put firmly back in place.
“You’ll still come tomorrow, though, right?” Maggie asked.
I winked. “It’s a date.”
Her relieved smile wiggled its way under my ribs, and instead of trying to ignore it, I decided that maybe, for today, it was okay to let it stay there.
Robin and Maggie waved goodbye, then followed Barrett, and it took me a moment before I turned and walked back to my own place.
The entire family—right up to the grandparents—seemed as if they’d been sent into my life just to unnerve me. To unseat me from the place I’d always felt safest: being alone.
Chapter Fifteen
Barrett
“Goodness, how long have you two been up?”
Mom found Dad and me sitting on the couch watching film, her robe wrapped tight around her body. My second cup of coffee was in my hand, and at his wife’s entrance, Dad stood to give her a sound kiss on the mouth. It was the way he’d greeted her every morning for my entire life.
“Best part of waking up,” he said, then smacked her on the bottom.
He’d also done that every morning.
Their easy affection wasn’t necessarily something I took for granted; I was fully aware it wasn’t normal. Especially after a decade with someone who, as it turned out, had a healthy amount of loathing for me.
“You didn’t hear me come in and wake Dad?” I asked.
“No.” She yawned, patting Dad on the stomach before going in search of her own coffee. “I assumed that you working from home today would mean that you’d be able to sleep in a little bit.”
I exhaled a quiet laugh. “Unfortunately not. My body wakes at four thirty whether I want it to or not.”
“You woke your father up at four thirty?” she asked, eyes darting between us.
“No, I was generous and gave him until five thirty.” I rolled my neck. “I did my run on the treadmill and some weights first.”
The basement of our home wasn’t anything fancy, but it was partially finished, at least enough that I’d built a serviceable home gym so that I could get my workouts in when I was home. Bryce liked using the treadmill in the winter, keeping his conditioning up before soccer started again in the spring.
“Now, that is something he should be joining you for.” Even though Mom said it pointedly, Dad ignored her, waiting until she’d finished filling her mug before holding his out for a refill. She paused, eyeing him carefully. “How many have you had? You know your doctor wants to limit your caffeine intake.”
“Two small cups, and he only said that because he didn’t know my son would be waking my ass up at five thirty in the morning.” When she hesitated, he motioned for the carafe and filled his own mug. “My ticker is fine. It can handle a little extra oomph.”
I smiled faintly.
Mom took a seat with her coffee, tugging a blanket over her legs while I cued up the next section of film. My eyes lingered on that blanket—it was the same one Lily had wrapped around her shoulders when I’d found her snooping in my office.
“What are we watching?” Mom asked, a life preserver from my own thoughts, something I desperately needed. My tablet was casting to the screen, and I tapped a few buttons, pulling up a new game since we’d already finished reviewing a different one.
“Denver versus San Diego a couple weeks ago. We play San Diego next. Denver runs a similar offense; it’s good to see how they handled this game,” I said carefully, glancing over at Mom’s expression.
Mom’s eyebrow lifted slowly. “Did you watch the game when it was on? It was a nail-biter.”
“I didn’t.” I took the last sip of my coffee, grimacing since it was lukewarm. “Saw some highlights later, though.” When I didn’t sayanything else, Mom and Dad traded a quick look. “Griffin played well. He always does,” I added gruffly.
It couldn’t be easy for them, watching their only sons, identical twins who’d been joined at the hip growing up, being slowly pulled apart by our own competitive natures, even though Griffin’s looked a lot different from mine. Not just how competitive we were, but contradictory. My brother might look exactly like me, but the ease and carelessness about life that he carried around like a trophy chafed every single part of who I was.
