Page 45 of Nailed (Dad Bod Contracting 3)
“Are you gonna marry him? If you do, will that make him my dad? Or no, that’ll make him my stepdad. Do I call him stepdad? That’s a lot to say. Can I just call him Ryder?” He breaks off with a sigh. “That is complicated.”
“Nate, slow down.” I laugh. “But yeah, that’s why it’s complicated. I like him, but getting married again is a big deal. And after what happened with Derek, I’m even more scared of making a mistake that will hurt you.”
He frowns. “Mom, Derek was an asshole. I knew he was an asshole the first time you brought him around me.”
“You’re not supposed to talk like that, mister.” I groan. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I didn’t know I could—I didn’t know I was supposed to.”
I play with a loose lock of my hair. “It’s not fair of me to put that on you,” I say. “Listen, buddy—I want you to always be honest with me. Always, about everything. But it’s not your job to tell me when I’m dating a—a butthole. I just…” I take a bite of pizza to buy myself time to figure out what else I need to say to my son. “I know Derek was a mistake. He didn’t treat you right, and that should have been my first clue that he was a jerk. I was being selfish, and I’m sorry.”
“I forgive you, Mama.” He brightens. “I like Ryder, though. And not just because he has a cool car.”
“Why else, then, if not for his cool car?”
Which, admittedly, is seriously cool.
He shrugs. “He talked to me. Like a normal person. I mean, I’m a kid and he’s an adult, but he talked to me like I’m just another person. Like you do.” He glances at me, dipping the crescent of his crust into a cup of ranch. “Dad doesn’t talk to me like that.”
“Baby, no one will ever replace your father. I hope you understand that.”
He shifts. “But Mom, I—what if I want someone to?” He looks at me almost fearfully, as if he’s saying something terrible. “I don’t really like Dad. He’s my dad and I love him, but I don’t always…like him. I guess I don’t want someone to replace him, like I’d never see him again, I just…I don’t know.” He sighs deeply. “You’re right—this is really complicated.”
“Nate…my point about Ryder is that I don’t want you to get super attached to Ryder being around and then him and I stop seeing each other and you get hurt.” I take his hand. “I get what you’re saying about your father, though. He can be…difficult, sometimes. There are reasons he and I got divorced, none of which have anything to do with you.”
“Is it because Dad is a slimy poophead?”
I groan. “Nate, you can’t say that about your father. It’s not okay.”
“Fine. But I think I like Ryder better.”
I laugh at that. “Are you trying to barter with me?”
“I don’t know what barter means.”
“It means—never mind what it means.”
“So you’ll talk to Ryder about going paintballing?”
I lean across the table and ruffle his hair. “We’ll see. I’ll talk to him, and that’s all I can promise.”
He grins at me. “We’re totally going paintballing.”
I sigh, because he knows he has me. “Like I said—I’ll talk to him and we’ll see what happens.”
I give up trying to go to sleep a few minutes before midnight. I’ve tossed and turned and counted sheep and my blessings, but blessings end up meaning the number of orgasms I had with Ryder over the weekend, which leaves me worked up and flushed and missing him. I pull my cell phone out of the bedside table drawer, turn off the “do not disturb” mode, and send Ryder a text.
Me: I really had a great time this weekend. Thank you. :-)
Ryder: I’m really glad you came to Billy Bar and called me on my shit. Because thanks to that, I had the most epic and incredible weekend of my life. I’m looking forward to a lot more of them with you.
Me: I’m glad I did, too.
Ryder: I wish I could text you all night, but I have to get up early.
Me: Same. Talk in the morning?
Ryder: For sure. Sleep well.
Me: You too.
Ryder: Don’t text me back, this time! If we’re both trying to get the last word in we’ll never stop texting.
I’m tempted to text him a winking emoji or something just to troll him, but I don’t, simply in the interest of actually getting some sleep tonight.
And so, thus ends the text conversation. I plug my phone back in, put it on “do not disturb,” and drift off, smiling to myself.
Only to be woken what feels like a few minutes later to a soft but insistent knocking on my front door. I moan in annoyance, but squirm out of bed and tug on my robe.
