Page 52 of The Single Dad Project

“Sweetie,” Flo breathed, her fingers lightly squeezing Justine’s shoulder. “Of course she does—”

“Lunch.”

Flo didn’t jolt at the sound of the deep voice behind her. Relief and hurt swirled inside her. Relief because this conversation was now averted. How did she explain a mother’s decisions to a five-year-old when Flo didn’t understand them herself? And hurt because eventually someone would need to have this conversation with Justine. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.

And at this moment she couldn’t be more thankful for the interruption Adam presented. Rising, she turned around.

Adam glanced down at Justine before returning his gaze to hers. “Everything okay?” he asked.

“Yes.” She pinned a smile on her lips. But she also gave him a tiny shake of her head to relay they would talk later. Without an avid audience. “Did you say something about lunch?”

He studied her for a long moment then slowly nodded and held up a couple of paper bags.

“Daddy!” Justine flew to her father, arms outstretched, and he swooped her up into his arms, hugging her.

“Hey, Jussy. You been having fun?” he asked, and she nodded so hard, Flo inwardly winced in sympathy.

“Uh-huh,” the little girl said and thrust out the new camera Flo had given her. “I have lots of pictures!”

“Good job, baby girl,” he praised, kissing her cheek. “Ready to eat lunch?”

“Yes!”

He set her down and pulled a sandwich, chips and juice box free from his bag.

“Here you go. Take this over to the bench and don’t wander, okay?”

Justine nodded, and clasping her lunch to her chest, ran over to the little black bench at the side of the house.

“She doesn’t ever walk anywhere, does she?” Flo asked, chuckling.

“No.” Adam shook his head, a smile playing about his lips. “She has two speeds. Stop and Mach 10.” He dipped into the brown paper bag once more, retrieved another sandwich and chips and extended them to her. “Lunch?”

“What? I don’t get a juice box?” Grinning, she accepted the meal and dipped her chin toward the gazebo. “Are you taking a break and eating, too?”

“Sure.”

She led the way toward the gazebo and settled down on the bench inside, glancing over to make sure Justine remained in view. Opening the wrap around her sandwich, she bit into it and hummed in appreciation.

“Thank you.” She held up the sandwich, swallowing the bite of tuna fish. “This is good.”

“It’s Jussy’s favorite,” he said, sitting down next to her and pulling his own meal free of the sack. They spent the next several minutes in silence, eating their lunch.

Once she finished her sandwich, he softly said, “So the conversation I walked up on...”

Damn. She’d hoped he would let that go.

Shaking her head, she picked up one of the bottles of water he’d set between them.

“I think she just misses her mother,” she murmured.

Sighing, Adam rubbed a hand over his head. “She’s so upbeat and happy, I sometimes convince myself our divorce and her mother’s absence doesn’t affect her. Maybe Iwantto believe that, but I, more than anyone, know it’s not true. Children can find ways to blame themselves for almost everything.”

So true. For the longest time Flo had blamed herself for Noah’s leaving. Blamed herself that her adopted father’s brother stayed away because he couldn’t bear looking at her and seeing her biological mother, the love of his life. Blamed herself for not being enough to make Noah stay or return.

As she grew older, she acknowledged the truth—that all of Noah’s choices were on him, not her. But emotionally?

Emotionally, she couldn’t completely eradicate the footprints of that guilt.

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