Page 110 of DadBod

Shaking her head, she moves into the kitchen. Looking on the counters, she moves to the door. “I can’t remember what I left here. If you find any of my things, just mail them to me, please.”

“Elizabeth…”

“Goodbye, Rome.”

“You’re not going say goodbye to Calvin?”

The look on her face is something I never want to see again. Like a category-five tornado is about to hit. “Do not talk to me about Calvin. Or Ryann, for that matter. I’ve made arrangements with them. They haven’t lost me, Rome. I would never do that to them.”

Before I can say one more word, she’s gone.

* * *

I can’t seemto accomplish much lately. It’s been five days since she left with her book, and I can barely function. I’m miserable, and I’ve only got myself to blame.

She didn’t lie. She’s been meeting the kids at the animal shelter this week. I know because, without a nanny, I’ve been home with them. I drop them off at the shelter and pick them up when they’re done. Jeriann has basically taken over for me while I “sort my shit out.” Her words. Sure, I’ve gone into the restaurant each day, but my heart’s not in it. I’ve been sitting in my office during the lulls and helping on the floor when we get busy. Hell, I’ve been waiting tables just to keep my mind busy––not on Elizabeth.

It’s not a bad thing for me to do again. It’s been years since I did this kind of thing, and it makes me remember how hard this work is. Maybe I need to lay off some of my servers. Maybe. It hasn’t been easy because we’re now down two servers, what with me firing Monica and Elizabeth on the same night. I half expect Monica to show up anyway, but so far, she hasn’t.

It’s good for me to be busy because everyone else at my house is doing their own thing. They say that Charlie is going to be available to foster in a week, which means Ryann is spending almost every day with him. She’s been taking Calvin with her. I’m a little concerned about how Ryann is going to react when Charlie gets adopted. I wish I knew what to do about it. If Elizabeth were here, I could ask her what to do.

“Shit.” I’m a pathetic sad sack.

“You know what you should do, Dad?”

I glance over at Calvin. He’s reading one of the wizard books. I guess she didn’t take home the one he was currently reading. Of course, she didn’t.

“What?”

“You should do something special.”

“Special?”

“She’s gonna be at my birthday party on Sunday. You need to fix things before that because I will not have my birthday party ruined by your antics.”

Ryann snickers at Calvin’s words. They were pretty funny. It’s too bad I don’t feel like laughing. Still, I have to know. “She is?”

“Of course. She promised.”

She’ll be there. “That’s good.”

“You should get her flowers or something.”

“You should’ve sent flowers days ago,” my eldest deadpans.

“Flowers?” That would have been a good idea.

“What about a heartfelt letter?”

“A love letter.” My son wraps his arms around himself and begins making kissing sounds. “You love her. You should tell her.” And then more overly exaggerated kisses. I can’t help but laugh, because the kid is hilarious.

My kids have another good idea. “A letter?”

“A heartfelt letter. A love letter. Whatever. Jesus,” she mutters. “You’ve got no game. Mom claimed, when you first started dating, you were soromantic. Gag, by the way. But I think she must’ve been thinking of someone else.”

“Don’t say ‘Jesus.’ And I’ll have you know I’ve got plenty of game.” Or I used to.

“Do something about it. She’s just as miserable as you are.”

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