“Enlighten me.”
“You’re thinking like a single guy trying to date a single dad, instead of thinking like a guy who wants to be part of a family.”
The words hit me like a speeding granola truck, all natural and shit.
“What do you mean?” I asked, my gaze snapping to his.
“Stop trying to work around the kid. Start including her. Make the complications part of the plan instead of obstacles to overcome. Dad might not want that at first, being protective and all, but you’ll never know until you try. It sounds like the little girl already likes you. Now, you need to convince the dad to do the same, only with her rather than against her.”
It was as though a gear clicked into place. I could hear it. It was tangible and solid and soright.
Mateo patted my shoulder and moved away, starting the leg routine he’d clearly been putting off. I couldn’t blame him. Leg day sucked.
But even without him looming over me, wrapping me in his lilting tones, I felt better, more centered, again filled with hope and purpose and . . . the beginning of a plan.
By the time I was most of the way through my workout, I was grinning to myself like an idiot.
The plan, now fully formed, was perfect.
It was simple, but perfect.
I finished my last set with renewed energy, wiped down the bench with more enthusiasm than the task required, and tossed my towel in the bin with the satisfaction of a man who’d just stood on the Miss America stage and answered, “World peace,” to the rousing applause of an adoring crowd.
I waved to Mateo, more grateful for his friendship than at any point since meeting the guy, and walked out to my truck. I felt like I was moving with purpose for the first time all day. I had a plan. I had determination. And most importantly, I had the phone number of a certain librarian who was about to discover that I didn’t give up that easily.
It was well past time to show Theo Jamison what it looked like when someone was truly willing to work around the beautiful chaos of his life.
This was going to be good.
Chapter 16
Theo
By five o’clock, I’d managed to clean the entire downstairs, reorganize Debbie’s toy chest twice, and play three rounds of “Princess Dragon Saves the Library”—a game that involved me being the evil wizard who’d stolen all the books while Debbie flew around the living room breathing imaginary fire and making sound effects more akin to a dying cat than a dragon, but who was I to correct a child’s imagination?
The house was finally presentable, which felt like a minor victory after the morning’s emotional roller coaster. Debbie had been remarkably helpful, in her five-year-old way, mostly by staying out of whatever room I was cleaning and only occasionally requesting snacks or assistance with elaborate construction projects involving couch cushions.
The more time I had to think, the more grateful I was that it was just the two of us. I should’ve thought to make a day out of our adoption conversation, to make it into the big deal that it really was and to celebrate it with my soon-to-be-daughter-for-real.
“Daddy, can we visit Cuddles?” she asked, appearing at my elbow as I folded the last of the laundry. “I want to show her my new dance moves.”
I looked out the window toward Mrs. Chen’s house, where I could see the golden retriever lounging on her front porch like a furry queen surveying her domain.
“Sure, Button, but just for a little while. We need to think about dinner soon.”
Debbie cheered and raced toward the front door, already calling out to Cuddles as though the dog could hear her through the walls—which, in hindsight, she probably could.
Moments later, Mrs. Chen and I stood shoulder to shoulder watching Debbie demonstrate what she called her “butterfly tornado dance” while Cuddles eyed her with the patient expression of a dog who’d seen it all before. Her transformation from vicious mail-carrier destroyer to gentle family pet never ceased to amaze me.
“She hassomuch energy,” Mrs. Chen observed, lowering herself onto her porch’s top step and patting the cement for me to join her. She was a small woman in her seventies, with silver hair always pulled back in a neat bun. Her kind, brown eyes missed nothing. “Where do children find all that energy? I swear, they must have some secret source the rest of us don’t know about.”
“I think it’s powered by sugar and pure stubbornness.” I grunted, watching Debbie attempt to teach Cuddles to spin in circles. “Some days I wonder if I should bottle it and sell it. I’d make a fortune.”
Mrs. Chen laughed, then gave me a sideways look. “Speaking of energy, have you seen that hunky delivery man around lately? The one who gets Cuddles all riled up?”
“Jeremiah?” Heat crept up my neck as I nodded. “He delivers here sometimes.”
“Mm-hmm. Know his name, do you?” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “And does he deliver anything besides packages?”
