Aya leans back to look toward what I think is the living room area. “That’s where it was, though?”
“I know. It looks better there than where I was trying it out.”
“It’s just a couch,” she tells him.
“I know, Aya.”
“You’re so weird,” she says, rolling her eyes.
“Can you make sure she brushes her teeth and washes her face before she goes to bed?”
“Of course,” I tell him. “I hope you like pizza, Aya?”
“You brought pizza?” She asks with excitement.
“Yup.”
“Thank goodness. Now I don’t have to eat the healthy stuff dad bought at the store. It was just to make us look like good eaters. We’re not though. Don’t let him fool you.”
Denver shakes his head and closes his eyes. “I’m going to be home late,” he says. “Maybe just talk about yourself tonight, Aya. Okay? Don’t give away any more of my secrets.” I’d probably be a bit nervous if I were Denver right now too. Aya has no filter.
“Love you, Daddy,” she says in an angelic, yet devilish, tone. The sound of it would scare me if I were Denver. As if echoing my thoughts, he takes a deep breath and kisses her on the forehead.
“Bed, no later than eight-thirty. No games. No bribes. No nothing. Got it?” he tells her.
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Aya, be nice to your dad. He doesn’t want to have to work tonight. It stinks being a grownup sometimes,” I butt in. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but I did.
“Yeah, I know he doesn’t want to go to work. He’d rather be here with us, but that’s what he gets for being an adult.”
Oh, boy. He’s got his hands full with her. Maybe I should be a little scared about how tonight will go, but I raised Lea from a teenager on, so I’d like to think I can handle an adorable seven-year-old too.
Chapter Seventeen
Denver
I’ve been trying to put all these pieces together for the past week or so now. I meet a chick who apparently hasn’t dated anyone before, and I don’t get it. I have an idea why Kai has remained solo, but she’s gorgeous, funny, sweet, and no one has pursued her before me? It’s not entirely adding up. I’m definitely not one to judge another’s actions after life takes a dump on a person, but why am I the lucky guy she’s found interesting enough to take a step in a direction she hasn’t considered before? Maybe itisjust Aya that makes her interested in me? Women don’t do that kind shit, right? Nah. That’s ridiculous. They want to have their own kids most of the time. I think so, anyway.
As I pull into the parking lot of Man Buns, I do my best to put on my game face. Despite feeling like I’m losing just an ounce of respect for myself each time I put those damn tiny shorts on, it’s for a paycheck … a nice girthy paycheck.Girthy… ha ha.
I’ve been just sort of just going through the motions here. Noa isn’t here most nights, and I’m not a huge fan of the other waiters. I get the feeling they’re here for an ego boost. I mean, hey, if that’s the only way to get a boost, all the power to them. The funniest part is that they all stuff socks into their shorts, and I’m not sure any one of them realize dicks shouldn’t be clumpy, but I’ll keep my thoughts to myself.
Thankfully, Lani is cool, and I can have a normal conversation with her here and there. “Hey, buddy,” she says as I walk through the doors. “I didn’t realize you were on the schedule tonight.”
“Last I checked the schedule, I was on it,” I tell her.
“Oh, I might be wrong. I scanned it pretty quickly when I came in.”
“I’ll check it out. Thanks for the heads up.”
I head on back into the locker room and over to the back wall where the schedule is pinned to a corkboard.
Weird. I’m on here but only until nine. I’ve had full shifts since I started, but maybe it’s been slow on Tuesdays. I shrug it off because I know if it were for any other reason, Noa would have said something to me when we spoke earlier.
I drop my shorts, already tucked in snuggly to my “Man Buns” shorts, and remove my shirt, before throwing my shit into one of the lockers.
Once I make my way back out onto the floor, Lani’s waiting to see if she was right or not. I’m not sure why she didn’t think I was on the schedule at all. “Yeah, I’m working tonight, but he only has me on until nine, though. Are Tuesdays usually slow or something?”
