Page 33 of The Single Dad Project

Wanted. Needed.

Loved.

She’d desperately wanted someone to step in and tell her father, “Why don’t we ask Flo if she wants those letters? Why don’t we ask if it hurts her to even see them?”

But then again, why hadn’t she said anything in all this time? Why hadn’t she voiced her discomfort to her family? She trusted them, adored them, and yet...

You were afraid.

She smothered the soft yet smug voice whispering that know-it-all accusation, but not before it bounced off the walls of her skull a couple of times. And it required every scrap of control not to flinch because Moe, with her eagle eyes, would catch the telltale gesture.

So she covered it up. Hid in plain sight.

Like always.

“Now...” Flo squeezed her mother’s hands and let them drop, returning her attention to the pot of mashed potatoes. “Let’s get ready to feed the horde. I can hear the impatient rumblings all the way in here from the main room.”

Moe’s grin was genuine if a little strained as she crossed the kitchen to nab plates to set the dinner table.

“You’re probably right. When I came in here, I swear Wolf was eyeing little Ryan like she’d transformed into a cartoon hot dog. If we don’t get this food out, we might have aLord of the Fliesoutbreak. And I will throw all of you in the path first to save my grandchildren.”

Flo laughed, because, yeah, her mother wasn’t lying. Moe would make them all fodder for her precious grandkids.

“Let’s do it, then.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

“DADDY,CANI have a milkshake?”

Adam shot a pointed look at his daughter’s nearly full plate of spaghetti and meatballs. Justine followed his glance and scrunched up her face.

“I’m thirsty,” she complained.

He arrowed another look toward her half-full glass of apple juice. This time a sheepish half smile lit her expression.

“I’m thirstyandhungry.” She shrugged.

Swallowing down a chuckle, he cut into his steak, forking a piece to his mouth.

“No, baby girl, you can’t have a milkshake,” he said, softening his rejection with a smile. “Maybe next time.” When her lips parted and her brow knotted, he arched an eyebrow. And she dug back into her spaghetti. But he knew his little girl. At some point before their dinner ended, she would round back to the milkshake argument. “So how was your day with Ms. Angela? Did you have fun with her?”

Finding a babysitter for Justine had been his first priority after settling on a place for them to live. And Angela Fischer had come highly recommended by the real estate agent who’d arranged the rental.

“She’s fun.” Justine twirled her fork in the pasta. “We went to the park and then we got hot chocolate. She’s got a boyfriend.” She dropped in that random bit of information as if asking him to add pepper to her spaghetti.

“She does, huh?” Amusement bubbled in him.Nosy. “How do you know that?”

Justine scratched the side of her nose, leaving a spot of marinara there.

“’Cause she’s on the phone with him a lot. They miss each other and like to kiss.”

The baked potato he’d been in the process of swallowing lodged in his throat, and he choked on it.

Holy shit.

Coughing until his eyes watered, he fumbled for his glass of water.

“You okay, Daddy?” Through misty eyes, he caught her frown and he managed to nod his head to reassure her, even as he desperately gulped down water. Just as he was starting to feel like he wasn’t suffocating, her face brightened like the sun breaking through storm clouds. “Flo! Flo, over here!” She waved her arm just in case her yell didn’t do the job of catching Flo’s attention.

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