Joan: Gross.
Dad: Love you.
Well, that confirms some thoughts I had about him dating. I assumed he was because he hasn’t been home much when I’m off work. I don’t think he realizes the kids are capable of staying home by themselves. But I’m glad he cares to be there for them just in case.
The front door swings open and I jump. “You scared the hell out of me.”
“Sorry.”
“Where were you? I looked everywhere.” There’s way too much panic in my voice, but I can’t help it. It’s odd being in a place I don’t know well, and being alone.
“I’m sorry. I go for a run every morning.”
“For fun?!?” That doesn’t sound like a good time to me. I know the kids go for runs when they are conditioning but they have a reason. Neither of them would just go for a run if they don’t have to.
“Yeah.” He laughs and takes a few steps toward me, attempting to give me a hug. I step back. He’s hot and all, but he’s sweaty and gross. “It helps me clear my mind.”
“If you say so.” Though, a small part of me wonders what exactly he had to clear his head about this morning. “What time are we leaving for the fair?”
“I have no idea.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t expecting you to be awake already. I planned on getting a shower and grabbing breakfast before you got out of bed.”
“We can always go out for breakfast.” It seems like I’m always putting a hitch in his plans for us. I probably could have slept longer, but not feeling him next to me was worrying. “Or, I can make us breakfast.”
He’s already shaking his head before I get the words out. “Today is about you. If anyone is cooking, it’s me.”
“I’m perfectly capable—”
“I know you are,” he interrupts me, “but I don’t want you lifting a finger. For once, let someone do something for you.”
How does he know I typically do everything on my own? Accepting help is hard for me, and I don’t think it’s something I’ll ever get used to. Even though my dad helps frequently, I constantly try to pay him or do things around the house to show my appreciation. I can’t just leave it alone.
I’m about to ask him where he gets his insight, when I remember he was raised by a single mom. He probably knows better than anyone how much of ourselves we give those we love, especially our children.
“Fine.” I sigh. Not because I’m mad, but because I don’t know what to do with myself if I’m not doing something for others. “I’ll let you plan out the day, including breakfast.”
“Good.” He nods his head to prove his point. “I’m gonna take a shower then I’m going to get breakfast for us.”
“I kind of want to see your cooking skills again.”
“Believe me, what you saw that one morning is about it. Mom didn’t have a ton of time to show me how to cook. I watched when I could, but I mostly live off fast food, and things I can throw on the grill.”
“And peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.” I grin, and take a step toward him. Sweaty or not, I wrap my arms around his waist. The contact may not mean much to him, but to me, it’s everything.
“Yes, those too.” He pulls me closer to him. “Even if I’ve apparently been making them wrong my entire life.”
“You said it. Not me.”
He kisses the top of my head and pulls away from me. I already miss the closeness between us. The pull I feel toward him is more than I even felt for my ex-husband when we first met.
“You go back to bed, or play the video game. It doesn’t matter which you do, just relax while I take a shower.”
“I can do that.”
“Can you?”
“Yes.” It’s annoying how well he seems to know me even though the only time we’ve spent together is the weekends we both work at the bar. “You don’t need to be a smartass.”
He holds his hands up in surrender. “I’m just making sure.”
