Page 7 of Baby for the Single Dad

Gabriel chuckles, looking just like our dad when he smiles. He has him to thank for his dashing looks and height. “Of course not. You’re a big girl.”

“Dad is taking me to my dance class,” Maddie gushes.

“Why don’t you come with us, Gigi?” Gabriel suggests. “You could check whether there are ballet lessons for adults. You mentioned you’d like to dance again.”

I had planned to sit on the terrace, stare at the East River, and brood about why having a committed boyfriend is so out of reach for me. I shift my gaze from his angular face to the lovely and spacious living room Gabriel redecorated with the help of a designer friend. But the modern artwork my mom bought years ago still graces the walls, as well as some of the furniture that has been reupholstered and revamped.

“Unless you’re too tired.” He smirks, a trace of curiosity lining his voice. But he doesn’t ask.

“Aunt Gigi, please come with us.”

I’ve never been able to deny Maddie’s requests, even when we were only talking on FaceTime. In person, she is that much more irresistible.

“All right, Maddie. Let me change and grab a phone charger.”

Some minutes later, we head to the Alvin Ailey Dance School on 55thStreet and Ninth Avenue. As we enter the storied building, a nostalgic feeling hits me as I see parents escorting their children to their lessons and older dancers stretching in the hallway, music interlaced by teachers’ instructions streaming from the studios.

It brings back happy memories of my childhood. If it wasn’t for my height, I would have pursued ballet professionally. But at five feet and nine inches, my instructors gently suggested it might be wiser to treat dance as a hobby. It didn’t quench my love for enjoying ballet, though.

While waiting for Maddie’s lesson to finish, Gabriel listens to a Masterclass on his phone, and I use the time to find out about the adult program. There’s an advanced ballet class I can join on Sundays while waiting for Maddie, and I sign up eagerly.

My joy dims when I overhear a couple talking about the Degas painting they saw at the Met the previous day. Memories of Miles shake me to my core. I reach for my phone, which I’d managed to charge a little in the cab, and dial my sister’s number. Josephine and I were inseparable when I was living in Paris, and I wish she would have found a way to come to New York with me.

“I did it again, Jo,” I utter with regret after we’ve exchanged pleasantries.

“Did what?”

“Got myself involved with a man who doesn’t want to have anything to do with me. Well, except to fuck me real good and leave a brief message for me the following morning.”

“Oh, sweetheart! I’m sorry.”

Hot tears pool in my eyes after I tell her how I met Miles and about the day and night we spent together, only to find myself alone in bed a few hours ago.

“I don’t know what is wrong with me. We connected, and I started building castles in the air like a lovesick teenager.” I laugh bitterly. “I’m supposed to be an intelligent woman, but I keep falling for guys who don’t want to commit.”

Thoughts of my ex-boyfriend, Pierre, who is twelve years older than me, flash through my mind. I expected that my relationship with him would lead to the altar. When I dared to ask him where our relationship was heading, he was surprised and dismayed.

“Marriage is definitely out of it. Been there, done that. One trip down the aisle is more than enough for me.”

His words had made me look like a desperate woman. But we had been dating for over two years. To this day, I wonder what his plan had been.

“Something must be wrong with me, Jo.”

“Please don’t talk like that. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you. You’ve just been unfortunate to meet losers. Don’t worry, the right man will come along.”

I can’t help snorting. From my high school days, I’d started suspecting that I have an aura that makes the opposite sex run for the hills. My relationships never lasted. Whenever I wanted to take things to the next level, the men flew away, as if the devil was chasing them.

“Could it be my red hair?” I suggest, desperate. “Maybe I could dye it.”

“Don’t you dare, Gigi. It only means no one has recognized the beautiful soul that you are yet.”

“I really thought Miles did. We spent an amazing day together, discussing art and music. I can’t remember the last time I connected with someone like this. I have no idea what happened.”

“Gigi, if it was meant to be, he wouldn’t have snuck out of the room like a thief. You need to forget about him and focus on yourself,” she admonishes calmly.

“I know, Jo, but sometimes, I can’t help it. What would it take to find the kind of love Mom and Dad have?”

She sighs. “I gave up on that a long time ago. They’re among the few lucky ones who found their soulmate. Not everyone will be as fortunate.”

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