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I move on. “This one?”
“No.”
I turn around on a sigh, raise my brow, and lean forward to tickle her. “Can you say anything but no?”
“Yes,” she manages to break out through her laughter.
When I stop tickling her, I beckon her to come closer with my finger as if I have a secret I want to tell her. With bugged-out eyes and high interest, she slides her cute little ass across the granite countertop, scooting herself closer to me as she brings her ear to my lips.
I look around, playing into the whole secrecy act before I whisper into her ear. “What about I pick you up and you grab the box you want? Does that sound good?”
She nods as she giggles. Then, I do exactly as I said I would. I lift her up toward the cabinet, using my biceps to steady her as she grabs the blue box. Frosted Cheerios, I should’ve known. It is her mother’s favorite after all, and Elle is in her copy Mommy phase.
After I place my daughter onto the bench seat at our kitchen table, I open the box and pile some Cheerios in front of her. Oddly enough, she likes to eat her cereal dry. But that might be because the only form of milk she drinks is chocolate milk. Okay, that last part she gets from me. Chocolate milk is the best!
Elle tilts her head as she looks up at me, flashing me that uh-aren’t-you-forgetting-something facial expression. Right, how could I forget that? I strut toward the fridge, open it, and pour some Yoo-hoo into a sippy cup for her.
I place the full cup of chocolate deliciousness in front of her. “Here you go, honey.”
“Thank you, Daddy,” she chirps with gratitude.
I slant downward, placing a kiss on the crown of her head. “You’re very welcome.”
“Surprise attack!”
I turn around and find Ben placing his fingers in the Spider-Man attack position as he pretends to stick me with webbing. How do I react, you may be wondering? Well, let’s just say that my actions would make my Dad proud. Immediately, I fall to the floor, trying to move my limbs only to find them stuck in place with spiderweb. “Oh no! I’m stuck!”
Both Ben and Elle laugh hysterically as I squirm against the hardwood floor. This right here is precisely why I always play along. Just to hear laughter erupting from their mouths. They are my everything. And any stupid thing I can do to make them laugh, I will do it without any hesitation. You can call me a big kid. It’s okay, I won’t be offended. If you knew my father, you would know that I get it from him. I just hope I can be even half the kind of man and father he is.
Once Ben sits next to his sister on the bench, I rise up off the floor and pour him a bowl of Trix. When they are both distracted by food and the shenanigans of Tom and Jerry, I explore the rest of the house in search for my wife. That’s when I see it, sitting there on the small table by the front door. The exact same one we designate for mail.
My heart pounds faster with each footstep. There is a folded up piece of paper with my name scribbled on it resting on the wood. It isn’t uncommon for Cheryl to leave me a note, but it’s usually pinned to the fridge by one of those alphabet magnets, never by the front door. When I get closer to it, my heart squeezes in my chest. I swear all the oxygen rushes from my body, making it nearly impossible for me to breathe. On top of the note is a ring. The one that matches mine——her wedding ring.
With shaky hands, I grab the paper note and unfold it, reading the three words that will change our lives forever. It’s too much.
“Shit! Shit! Shit!” I can’t help myself. The words fly out on a guttural groan. I turn toward our children and see both sets of questioning eyes staring up at me. Their lives just changed forever and they don’t even know it yet. What the hell am I supposed to tell them? At this moment, I don’t even care why she did this to me. Sure, I would like some kind of explanation for the shit storm she just blindsided me with. But more importantly, I want to know…how could she do this to them?
“Shit?” Elle repeats in a curious tone. Dammit! Sometimes I forget that I live with a little parrot. A cute little parrot, but a parrot nonetheless. Being two, Elle likes to repeat everything she hears. It has something to do with her developing brain or some shit. I don’t quite remember exactly what the pediatrician said.
I point my finger at her and speak in a stern tone. Well, as sternly as I can manage considering my voice is still shaking from shock and fear. “Don’t you ever say that word, Elle. Daddy shouldn’t have used. I just, uh, stubbed my toe and got carried away.”
Satisfied with my explanation, both of them go back to watching the cartoon on TV. Using their distracted state to my advantage, I dash up stairs, into my room, and lock the door behind me. I swipe my phone off the nightstand and call her. Straight to voicemail. Fuck!
In a flurry, I check the closet, then the bathroom. All her shit is gone. Double-fuck! Why did I have to be such a heavy sleeper? If I wasn’t, I would’ve made her look me in the eye as she left. I would’ve made her tell our children goodbye. That horrible explanation should have been put on her. Not me.
I sink to the floor of the bathroom as my eyes start to water. What the hell am I going to do? What am I going to tell Ben and Elle? I can’t be a single father. Sure, I might be able to manage Ben. But boys are easy. Little girls on the other hand, not so much. What do I know about raising a daughter? I don’t even have the same equipment for fucks sake! How the hell am I going to be able to explain bodily changes to her? Or her monthly visit from Aunt Flo? Christ, I don’t even know how to buy a bra, only how to take them off speedily without tearing the delicate fabric.
As all the questions swirl in my head, I feel nauseated. Drowning in unanswered questions and what-if scenarios. Worry wretches in my stomach as my eyes lose the battle, letting the tears stain my cheeks as they stream endlessly down my face. From this point forward, I am a single father of two young children. That is my new identity. That is my life now.
Read More in Role Model, Coming Soon.
Also by J.P. Nicholas
Just Pretend (Sandy Heights #1)