“That sounds perfect. Thank you, Ken.”
Marc gave me their home address, and we said our goodbyes. I ended the call, my mind already compiling a list of easy worksheets and activities to bring Mia.
I couldn’t erase the image of her slight frame in a hospital bed, fighting against her own body. The thought of Marc by her side, his face etched with fear, tightened the knot in my chest.
As I prepped for my afternoon lessons, my thoughts drifted to Marc and his dedication as a single father, the tenderness in his voice when he spoke of Mia. He shouldered so much on his own. Even though we hadn’t been friends for long, I wanted to be there for him, to ease his burdens in any way possible.
Yet this was more than friendship, I admitted to myself. A smile spread across my face at the prospect of seeing him again, at his house, even under these difficult circumstances.
I shook my head, trying to dislodge the inappropriate thoughts. Marc was Mia’s father, not a romantic prospect.
It was selfish to think otherwise.
***
I knocked on the door to the Mendez residence a little after five in the afternoon.
Marc answered, barefoot, wearing a faded concert t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. He stood before me, his broad shoulders slumped, and his dark eyes shadowed with fatigue, but as his gaze met mine, a flicker of relief crossed his face, his lips curving into a tired smile. “Thank you so much for coming.” His voice was low and rough as he stepped aside, ushering me in with a gentle sweep of his arm.
“It’s no problem at all.” I stepped into the warm, inviting space of Marc’s home, the aroma of freshly baked cookies lingering in the air. I spotted some of Mia’s toys on the floor, a coloring book with a box of crayons next to it—all signs of a home with a well-loved child. I offered him what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “I’m happy to help in any way I can. How’s Mia doing?” I asked.
The contrast between the coziness of this welcoming space and the worry and exhaustion etched into Marc’s handsome features tugged at my heart.
Marc led me into the house, and the hardwood floors creaked with each step as we moved through the living room. “She’s napping right now, but she’ll be thrilled to see you when she wakes up. She talks about you all the time.” His eyes softened, and a tenderness filled his voice as he spoke of his daughter.
I flushed at the compliment. “She’s a special kid. I’m just glad I can be here for her.”
Sitting at Marc’s kitchen table, I spread out Mia’s assignments—a mix of sight word practice and counting exercises. “These are some of the reading and math assignments she can do from home,” I explained, pointing to the colorful worksheets. As I walked Marc through the worksheets and projects, his brow furrowed as he listened. His eyes followed my every movement, his gaze intense and focused. Marc’s love for his daughter shone through with every word, and the depth of his devotion touched at my heart.
Despite whatever physical attraction I had to this man, it was the way he loved his little girl that won me over.
I had completely forgotten that I was sitting next to Magic Marco.
“I know it’s a lot,” I said, my voice low and reassuring, “but I’m here to help. If Mia has questions, I’m a Zoom call away. Evenings, weekends, whenever you need me.” Without thinking, I reached out, my hand resting gently on his arm, the warmth of his skin seeping into my palm. “Are you doing okay?”
Marc’s eyes met mine, surprise and gratitude flickering across his face. His lips parted, tongue darting out as if to speak, but before he could utter a word, small, pattering footsteps in the hallway caught our attention.
“Papi?” A sleepy voice called out. “Is that Mr. Parker?”
Marc’s face softened as we shared a knowing glance, and a smile spreading across his features as he turned towards the sound of his daughter’s voice. “Yes,mija, it is. Come say hello.”
Mia appeared in the doorway, hair tousled and eyes bright with excitement. She ran towards us, her small arms outstretched as I scooped her up into a hug. “Mr. Parker, you’re here!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with joy and wonder. “Are you having dinner with us?”
I glanced at Marc, a silent question in my eyes. He smiled warmly and nodded. “Of course he is,mi amor. We’re having cheese enchiladas if that sounds good.”
“That sounds amazing,” I answered, giving Mia a quick wink.
Mia’s face lit up, and she clapped her hands in delight. “Yay! I’ll help set the table!”
As we worked together in the kitchen, the domesticity of the moment struck me.
The easy rhythm of us working together felt natural, cozy, like a glimpse into a life I hadn’t realized I craved. Blanco Springs wasn’t a hotbed for gay dating, but if it had been, looking for a long-term relationship wasn’t something that I’d ever listed on a dating profile.
The sight of Marc, Mia, and me in this cozy kitchen made my heart ache in the best way; I caught myself daydreaming about dinners like this—all of us gathered around, laughter bouncing off the walls.
It felt right. It felt like home.
And it didn’t hurt that the enchiladas were divine. “Marc, this is incredible,” I said between bites. “You’re amazing. As a single guy, I don’t eat this well unless I’m at a restaurant.”
