The fact is, I’m lonely.
I’ve lived the last year on autopilot, taking care of two kids, my in-laws, hell, the entire town, all on my own. And now Will is here. He’s another adult, and as reluctant as he is, he’s been there.
Helping at the practice, joining us for dinner, spending time with the kids. He’s someone I see every day, and I’ve been alone for a year. So when he looks at me, and my heart picks up, it’s not because I want him.
I don’t even like him.
He’s a familiar face, and I’m lonely. My heart is confused.
I think it’s time to get back out there.
I’ve been telling myself I’m not ready, but at some point, not ready turns into confusing feelings toward your brother-in-law, and that’s not what I want. What I want is awomanwho didn’t spend the last decade in prison. Someone warm and kind. Family-oriented.
So I’m going out with Karen this Friday. Karen, who likes me and is uncomplicated and who knows. Maybe this could be the start of something great.
Addie is already in the kitchen when I come downstairs at six, standing at the stove in her pajamas, frowning at a pan. “What are you doing?” I ask, coming up beside her.
“Making eggs.”
I stare down into the pan. “I don’t think it’s supposed to look like that.”
“I watched a video,” she argues, and I let her be, no energy to try to help this early in the morning. It’s not like I’m any better at this than she is.
Jess always cooked for the family.
I pour a cup of coffee and lean against the counter. Mostly to make sure she doesn’t burn the house down, while she prods the eggs with a spatula, frowning at the mess in the pan.
“I wanted to talk to you about something,” I say after a few minutes, hiding my smile behind my cup.
“Okay.”
I’ve been turning over how to say this since four in the morning, but the truth is, I have no idea how this is gonna go. I’ve never navigated dating with kids. “How would you feel if I went out with someone?”
“Like a date?”
“Yeah. You could say that.”
“With who?” she asks, and I don’t think I’m imagining that she’s gone quiet, a bit more still than usual.
“Karen. She cuts hair at the salon, you’ve probably—”
“I know who Karen is, Dad.”
She’s quiet for another moment, and I grow more and more uncomfortable with the idea the longer the silence stretches on. Maybe I shouldn’t do it. Maybe the kids aren’t ready. I’m not even ready, so why would I think they—
“I think you should,” she cuts through my spiral, shocking me with her words.
“You do?”
“Yeah.” She slides the pile of slime you could call eggs onto a plate. “Momleft us, Dad. And you spend all your free time moping around about it. It could be good for you.”
“Thank you,” I say, my chest filling with relief.
She shrugs, but she’s pleased, her dimples taking over her full cheeks when she smiles. “Just take it slow. Anddon’ttalk about mom. Girls hate when guys talk about their exes.”
“Well, I’m sure Karen wouldn’t mind. Mom was my wife—”
“She will definitely mind,” she interrupts, the look of horror on her face enough to make me feel bad.
