The pink, flower-patterned bag that Meghan dropped off with my daughter has been traded in for one a bit more tactical—khaki canvas material that’s stain resistant, pockets for all of the necessities like bottles and binkies, and a compartment that folds down into a changing pad for when I have to change a diaper in a pinch because the men’s restroom has no changing table.
Seriously. When are public restrooms going to get with the times? And what about the single dads, like me? Why are we not being thought of?
It’s been a little over a week since Remy came into my life, and I’m already forming a list of parenting issues I feel I’m developing strong stances on, with the changing table debacle at the top of the list.
But today also marks ten days of Elodie living with us, and adjusting to having a woman in my space has been its own adventure.
The woman in question is currently gliding next to me in a floor length cotton dress, printed with a tropical pattern in teal and purple. Her hair is down in soft waves, and she has on a pair of earrings that sparkle every time the sun hits them, making her eyes stand out even more.
After the run-in with Carol and Nick the other day, I was expecting Elodie to push me more about my relationship with them, but she never brought it up again. Instead, I came home to a fully stocked fridge, clean and folded clothes, and organized baby items in my daughter’s room, along with the amazing meal she had prepared for me, and two more since then.
That night—sitting there and talking to her, seeing a look of sadness but also unexplainable joy in her eyes—it’s had my stomach in knots the past few days. Watching her as she watched her favorite movie was an experience. I was invested in what she was feeling—her laughs, her shock at certain parts even though she knew what was going to happen, and her tears when the end came.
The entire evening has been on replay in my mind and is causing an uneasiness to grow inside me, even though I have nothing to be wound up about. Elodie is incredible, and between the two of us, we’re starting to get a routine down.
Remy’s crib is still in my room for the time being, but she’s not sleeping in the bed with me anymore. The past few nights have been decent thanks to Elodie’s suggestion that we change her formula to one more sensitive for her stomach, which has definitely helped withher gas and projectile vomit issues. I’m confident that if she wakes up, my subpar fatherhood skills are enough to get her back to sleep without my nanny’s help—a thought that I have to keep reminding myself of since the night she sang my daughter and me to sleep.
“Hey, you made it!” Laney walks up to me, pressing on her tiptoes to kiss my cheek, then Remy’s.
“Well, not sure how much of the movie I’ll get to watch, but I don’t want to let a baby prevent me from supporting the winery.”
Laney runs a finger down Remy’s cheek. “I’m sure she’ll be fine, but if you need a break, just let me know.” She turns to Elodie, tossing her thumb in my direction. “You convinced him to come?”
Elodie rubs my arm, so natural I don’t even flinch.
Fuck. I like her touching me way too damn much.
“Honestly, I think he’s just scared to be left alone with Remy.”
I shrug. “She’s not wrong, but it’s a beautiful night. I don’t want to waste it because before you know it, the snow will be here.”
Laney huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, but that means it’s snowboarding season, which you love, remember?”
My lips quirk up. “And you’re not wrong about that.”
Elodie turns to me. “You snowboard?”
“And ski. Wouldn’t make sense that I own a ski lodge and don’t have some sort of experience on the slopes, now would it?”
“Henley used to be a bit of a daredevil back in the day.”
“Is that so?” Elodie studies me before Remy squawks from her carrier.
“Laney!” A voice carries over the noise of the growing crowd, drawing my attention to the right. George Hart, Laney’s father, is waving her in his direction.
She turns back to me and Elodie. “I’ll catch up with you guys later, okay? But don’t forget about the popcorn. The new cart is working great, and we’ve added some new flavor options.”
Elodie watches her walk away and then gestures to the grass that is filling up quickly as families mark their spots with their blankets and lawn chairs, the sun falling fast in the sky.
“Shall we find a spot?” she asks.
“Yeah, probably should.”
“Good, because I’m a bit of a popcorn fanatic and if I miss out, I’m going to be pissed.”
Chuckling, I lead Elodie over to a spot that has just a sliver of shade created by the tree that’s been here for at least as long as I have. Hart Winery is a staple in Blossom Peak, and part of the reason is the history of this place. Laney and Rhonan’s parents opened this winery when they were kids, and that type of legacy is pretty normal around here—generations of families continuing to build Blossom Peak into a town and home that draws people from all over this country.
Since her mom passed, Laney and her dad have kept this place thriving, and people visit from all over to sample their wines or host their weddings on the beautiful grounds.
