“Nope, dinner is a surprise. You spend time with Dylan.”
While I cooked, I could hear her in the other room, playing with my daughter, reading her books and showing her how to stack blocks, and my stomach clenched.
This time two weeks ago, I would have been cracking open a beer and ordering takeout for the thousandth time. Or maybe I would have been bringing home some random woman to warm my bed for the night, the only sort of company I’d kept until now . . . now that Dylan was here.
And if I was being honest with myself, now that Addison was here.
Looking back, I felt sort of bad for my old self—the lonely, restless existence that came from flitting from one woman to another. Having nothing to come home for.
That was the way it had been with Jenn too. I’d thought back then that she was my girlfriend, but even that label had me skirting away just as fast as I could. And had she actually been a girlfriend? Not really. Thinking on it now, I realized I hardly knew anything about her. She would just come over, share a quick fuck, and then stare at her phone while we ate takeout. She never asked about my dreams, and I never asked about hers. We were together, but also apart. Strange that even then I knew it wasn’t something I wanted for life.
That wasn’t companionship or a relationship at all. It was just mutual loneliness.
Still, it was the most long-term relationship I’d ever had. Besides Jenn, it was only one-night stands and flings I could barely recall now. As much as I might have enjoyed a woman’s company, none of them had ever had the kind of energy and warmth Addison brought into the house.
She was just so damn easy to talk to—like I could share my darkest secrets with her and she would understand everything I said. She shared about herself too. She’d told me about her stupid ex and her mother, and let me into her world.
Only a few nights ago, we’d been sitting together on the sofa, watching something on TV, and she’d tilted her head to the side. “It must have been really hard to find out you’d be a single parent the way you did.”
I’d nodded. “I guess it was, yeah.”
“Most people have nine months to prepare, but you didn’t even have that. And looking at you and Dylan? You’d never know it.”
“What makes you say that?” I asked.
She pointed at the TV. “I was just thinking about the nanny on this show. She’s pretty much the only parent. That’s the way it was for my nanny, but it’s really not like that for me. You’re a good father.”
My heart stuttered. “Thanks. I didn’t know you had a nanny.”
She nodded, still staring at the TV. “She actually sort of looked like this lady.”
The woman on the screen was chubby and kind-looking, with salt-and-pepper hair and an easy smile.
“My mom made her wear a stupid uniform too.” She shook her head. “She was a single parent, like you. But she did her best.”
“Not exactly a ringing endorsement.”
“Science waits for no man. Without a father around, my mom couldn’t really follow her dreams and spend all her energy on raising me. It wasn’t her fault.”
“Wasn’t it?” I’d asked.
She’d glanced at me, a shadow of sadness tinged with regret playing over her face. “Every parent is different. I just want you to know that you’re a good one.”
A trill of laughter sounded from the next room, interrupting my memory, and I smiled to myself, picturing the two girls together. If I didn’t know better, they might have been mother and daughter. So easy and comfortable together, almost instantly.
“All right, dinner is ready.” I called them in, then swept my hand out toward the buffet I’d created.
“Whoa.” Addison smiled as she walked into the room with Dylan on her hip. “What’s all this?”
“Breakfast for dinner. You’ve made pancakes two times in the past week, so I thought—”
Her grin widened. “I guess my secret is out. They’re the only way to eat cake for breakfast while maintaining your dignity, so they’re pretty much my favorite food.”
“I guess so.” I cut up a pancake for the baby and sat her in her high chair while Addison loaded her pancakes with the fresh berries and homemade whipped cream I’d made.
“I had no idea you could cook,” she said.
“I got a little help from Pinterest,” I admitted, and she laughed.
“I told you it’s addictive.”
I joined her at the table with a plate, and we talked about our day.
“How’s the hangover? Gone or still nursing it?” she asked around a mouthful of food.
I grinned and tucked into my own stack. “Yeah, it was a rough morning, but by lunch I was fine.”
“You really didn’t have to cook and clean like all this,” Addison said, but I shook my head.
“I wanted to. You work hard, and I want you to know how appreciative I am.”