Single Dad Next Door: A Fake Marriage Romance

by Penelope Bloom

  “Thank you,” Sandra says.

  “You trying to fatten us up so we can’t fit out the door? Cause if you wanted us to stay, all you had to do was ask.”

  “Okay, then stay,” she says quickly. The moment hangs between us and she laughs a little nervously, clears her throat, and looks down at her fork. “Sorry. I was just joking. Bad joke.”

  I watch her, running the moment over in my head and looking at it from every angle. “I can’t figure you out, Sandra.”

  “Welcome to the club,” she says. “I hardly know what I’m thinking half the time. You’re not so easy to figure out either, you know. Sometimes I wish I knew what you were thinking.”

  “Well,” says Roman. “He thinks your pretty. He likes you a lot, and he wants you to be my mo--”

  Roman’s voice cuts off as I put a hand over his mouth and clap his back. “Easy there Bud, you’re going to choke on that macaroni if you keep talking with your mouth full.”

  I move my hand away and Roman continues right where he left off. “Mommy,” he finishes.

  I sigh. “Having a kid is like having a parrot. But more manipulative.”

  Sandra laughs, but she’s twirling a loose lock of her hair as she looks between Roman and I. What’s going on in that gorgeous head of hers?

  “Can we get a parrot?” asks Roman.

  “No,” I say. “One motormouth is enough.”

  Roman humphs before diving back into his macaroni binge.

  Sandra eyes me across the table. I may know how to make a woman’s toes curl with the slightest touch and how to make the hairs on her neck stand up with a whisper, but I don’t have a fucking clue when it comes to what they’re thinking. All I know right now is she’s definitely thinking something.

  “So,” she says. “What happened with my parents?”

  “I know you’re pissed, but--”

  “Pissed?” she asks. “Why would I be pissed?”

  “Uh,” I say. “Right. Exactly.”

  She scrunches her nose, leaning forward. “You had better spill it.”

  “All right, fine. You want to know what I said? I told them they were…” I glance toward Roman and decide to opt for the G-rated version. “I told them they were dummies for the way they treat you. And I told them they should get lost, because you’ve made yourself the person you are without them and you don’t need their help.”

  “You said all that?”

  I shrug. “Something along those lines.”

  Tears well in her eyes and she suddenly plants her hands on the table, leaning over the middle. I don’t need to be prompted twice, and I lean over too, kissing her softly.

  “Yuck,” says Roman.

  We break apart, and I glare at Roman. “Aren’t you getting tired, Bud?”

  “Bedtime isn’t for another hour!” he complains.

  I know better than to turn it into a battle, so I just ruffle his hair and drop it, looking back to Sandra.

  “Mind telling me why you’re not pissed?” I ask. “Not that I’m complaining.”

  “Because they came by after I saw you at the bakery. They apologized. It was… I think it was genuine. I’ve never heard them apologize for anything before. They said they will need some time to come to terms with it, but that they may have been wrong. You have no idea how long I have been needing to hear that from them. So… Thank you.”

  I nod. “So, how are you feeling?” I ask pointedly, trying to show her my meaning by staring at her belly.

  She misunderstands, making a scandalized face. “I’m feeling like there are one too many people at the table to be taking the conversation in that direction.”

  I sigh. “No, I mean. Have you had any strange symptoms lately?”

  Realization sets in on her face. “Oh. Um, well, nothing too out of the ordinary. I should know for sure in a week.”

  That soon? Damn. I feel strange about the whole thing, not because I don’t want her to be pregnant, but because I do want it. It’s fucking insane to want to have a baby with someone I’ve essentially spent so little time with, but there it is, clear as day. I want her to be carrying my baby. I want to raise a baby with her, and I want a reason for her to be in Roman’s life. With Tara becoming more and more irresponsible, having a strong woman like Sandra in his life is just what he needs.

  “Is that a relief to you?” She asks carefully. “That I’m not having symptoms so far?”

  I narrow my eyes. She’s asking if I want the baby. “No,” I say pointedly. “In fact, I’m thinking I may need to keep trying to make you have those symptoms.”

  She smiles, biting her lip. The look on her face quickly grows distant though.

  “What?” I ask.

  She shakes her head, jabbing her fork idly at her potatoes. “You’re sure none of your excitement has to do with what your brother told me about?”

  “Positive. Besides. There are two parts to that agreement. If you don’t believe I want this for real, then I’ll tell you this. Garage or no garage, I’d still want this baby. Still want you to be my wife.”

  I realize I may have said too much in front of Roman, but when I look over his forehead is on the table and his mouth is open, trailing drool. Macaroni and cheese does always make him tired.

  Sandra notices at the same time as me and smiles. “Is that normal?”

  “Happens all the time,” I say, carefully wiping his mouth with a napkin and then carrying him to her couch. I lay him down and cover him with a blanket while Sandra watches. I kiss Roman on the forehead and step out to the front porch with Sandra where we can talk without disturbing him.

  “You mean what you said?” asks Sandra. “About the being your wife thing?”

  “I did,” I say. “I do.”

  She laughs. “This is all so crazy. You realize that, right? What’s happening between us, how fast this is all moving… None of this is normal.”

  “That’s what makes it so fun. That’s how you know it’s real,” I say more quietly, wanting to find out if her panties are black like she said, wanting to kiss her.

  “We can’t get married. It’s so soon. Imagine what people would think.”

  I smirk. “So you’re considering it, then? You wouldn’t be worrying what people would think if you weren’t considering it.”

  She looks out toward where the trees sway, blotting out the stars. “I don’t know what I’m considering, Reid. There might be a baby growing in here,” she says, clutching her stomach.

  I put my hand on top of hers, hugging her from behind and resting my chin on her head. “Yeah, I hope there is.”

  “Don’t say that,” she snaps. She pauses, softening her voice. “This is scary for me. I don’t want you to say it if you don’t mean it. And… well, why would you mean it? You barely know me. Why would you want me to have a baby if not for the contract.”

  “Because I love you,” I say. It’s not the first time I’ve told a woman I love her, but it’s the first time saying the words has made every inch of my skin tingle. It’s the first time the words have felt real and powerful. “I don’t care if it’s stupid or if it’s too soon, Sandra. I know what I feel. Do you understand?”

  She turns to face me. There are tears in her eyes but no sadness in her features. Only resolve. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it,” she says firmly.

  I take her chin between my thumb and forefinger, kissing her before pulling back and locking eyes with her. “Listen to me. I know you’re used to shitty people and shitty things happening to you. I get it, but believe me when I tell you how I feel.”

  She doesn’t speak for a long moment, long enough that I wonder if she’s going to say anything at all. “I love you, too. As crazy and stupid as that is. I do.”

  I kiss her then, hard. I may not know if the plan I have in the works is going to fix the trouble my brother is causing. I may not know how things with Tara and Roman are going to shape up. I may not even know how I plan to save my garage and what I’ll do if I lose it. But
I know holding Sandra makes it all seem like background noise.

  20

  Sandra

  As much as I know how quickly things could start shifting out of control, I’m happy. Every day I go to sleep thinking the buzz of joy from knowing Reid wants me and loves me will fade, or that something will come crashing down and turn it on its head, but it doesn’t come. Day after day goes by and the moments I spend with Reid and Roman start to make it seem like maybe I could rebuild if I lose the bakery. Before I saw only darkness and suffering if it was taken from me, now I know I have Reid by my side to stand with me. Even if we end up living out of a car, it would be together.

  Still. I can’t ignore it much longer. The deadline to pay is coming, and if my plan to take advantage of the strawberry festival doesn’t work, I don’t know what else I can do. I’ll have to let the shop go. Reid might lose his business too. We’d be completely and totally doomed, and my biggest fear is the fresh, almost delicate feelings between us might not survive something like that, no matter how real they are.

  I have to laugh at myself from time to time. He’s turning me into a lovestruck teenager. I feel like I’m saying and feeling all the things a woman my age would scoff at hearing. He’s the one. He’s mine--forever. The words bounce around my thoughts like rays of warm hope, only seeming to grow stronger with every passing day.

  The last week has been wonderful, like something out of my dreams. Reid and Roman stop by the bakery during their lunch break and Reid sneaks me out back or into the walk in to steal kisses and sometimes more. I know he wasn’t kidding about wanting me to be pregnant, because he doesn’t miss any opportunities to try. Not that I’m complaining.

  “Hello, cadet, this is Lauren. Do you read?”

  I smile awkwardly, realizing I was just standing like a zombie and daydreaming. “Sorry,” I say.

  “You may want to tell him to take it easy on you. I think Reid Riggins is banging you so hard your brains are turning to jello.”

  I blush bright red. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, grabbing a tray of batter and moving it to the prep table with a grunt.

  “Mhm,” says Lauren, folding her arms. “You know the walls of the walk-in aren’t soundproof. Right?”

  My blush deepens. “Okay, okay. I get it. Can we not talk about this right now? I’m kind of trying to get everything ready for tomorrow and I need to focus.”

  Lauren laughs. “Well, if you want to focus, you may want to stop daydreaming about Mr. Magic Cock.”

  “Would you please not talk about Reid’s penis?”

  Lauren grins. “Listen to you. Penis.” She rolls her eyes upward and waves her hands dramatically, imitating me in a ridiculously high pitched voice. “Oh Reid, please place your large penis inside my vagina. Perhaps you could penetrate me so deeply that the head of your manly erection presses against my cervix!”

  “Stop it,” I laugh. “I’m not that bad.”

  “Prove it then. Say ‘cock’.”

  I shake my head, trying to laugh off her request. “Say it!”

  “Cock!” I snap.

  Mrs. Stevens looks up from her daily struggle between the danish and doughnuts. I cover my face with my hand, turning to Lauren and glaring.

  Lauren bursts out laughing. “I didn’t tell you to yell it. Don’t look at me. You’re supposed to be the mature one here.”

  “Well, if you’re done being totally inappropriate--”

  “You’re the one yelling about cocks at two in the afternoon,” she reminds me conscientiously.

  I slam a ball of batter down on the table and give her my best evil eye. I swear, being around Lauren is a test of willpower at times. “As I was saying. I’m going to need you here by five tomorrow morning. I want everything over to the Francis’ farmhouse by seven at the latest. I have a couple of the guys from the high school football team coming to help move the ovens into trucks.”

  “Five in the morning, hmmm. Pretttty early. You sure, boss?”

  “Lauren. You realize this is the only chance of saving the bakery, right? I don’t even have any idea if this can work, but it’s the only shot I have. So can you please just help me on this?”

  She gives me a rarely genuine smile and squeezes my shoulder. “You know I’m always here for you, girl. Five in the morning. I’ll be here.”

  I stand outside Tara’s door, holding my hand up to knock, but hesitating. I keep replaying what Reid said about her in my head. I can’t help thinking how right it seemed. Hasn’t my history with Tara been a long chain of attention and inattention? She reaches out to me and wants to be close when she needs something from me, and when she doesn’t, she pushes me away. I’ve just been too blind to see it, I guess. Still… I know she’s hurting. Whether she has tried to use me before or not, we have too much history for me to just let things linger this way. I have to at least try to patch things up or I’ll never forgive myself.

  I knock.

  A few seconds later, the door opens slowly. For the first time I can remember, Tara isn’t wearing makeup. Yes, she seems to have at least washed her hair and combed it and she’s wearing a cute outfit, but there’s no trace of mascara or concealer on her face. Not even a little blush. She starts to close the door when she sees me, but I put my hand on the door, pressing hard.

  “Wait, please. Tara, I just want to talk.”

  “And fuck my ex-husband,” she says, trying again to close the door.

  “Tara, you’re letting me in there whether you like it or not.”

  We have a brief, pitiful struggle over the door before I finally push my way inside. There’s a little bit of slapping and clothes yanking before we separate, breathless and glaring.

  “What the hell!” yells Tara. “Did you come over here to beat me up or something? Because you know I could totally take you.”

  I roll my eyes. “I said I just want to talk.”

  “Yeah, and then you charged me like a wild animal.”

  “You wouldn’t let me in,” I say, grinning a little.

  Tara bites back a smile and sighs. “Fine. I’m going to have a drink. Do you want anything?”

  “I’m okay,” I say, plopping down on the couch, which she has inexplicably put in the middle of the far wall, where it barely fits.

  She sits down with a drink a short time later, swirling some kind of cocktail and squeezing a lime into it before taking a sip. “Okay, shoot. You came to talk. Let’s hear it.”

  “I just wanted to say I’m sorry things between you and Mark didn’t work out. It wasn’t really fair for me to blame you for what Mark was doing. I know you had no say in it.”

  She sips her drink, eyeing me over the rim of her glass. “Apology accepted. And I’m sorry for some of the things I said to you too.”

  It’s not the best apology I’ve ever heard, but before the last few weeks, I was used to getting no apologies at all, so I’ll take it for now.

  “I’m also sorry it wound up like this. Reid and I. I really care about him though, and my feelings for him have nothing to do with you.”

  She takes a long sip of her drink and laughs to herself. “I think I always thought we’d get back together. Some stupid part of me thought dating his brother would wake him up and make him want to fight to have me back. I think all I did was push him farther away. I guess we never were good for each other in the first place. I never really talked about it, but Reid is a good man.” She shakes her head, looking down at her drink thoughtfully. “He is a better man than I deserved. I guess that scared me. It made me feel inferior and insecure. So I did something stupid.”

  “Even though it didn’t work out with Reid, you have Roman,” I say encouragingly. “You know Roman loves you. It’s important that you be there for him. He needs his mom.”

  She raises her glass to take a sip and then grimaces, setting it down a little too hard on the end table and shattering it. “Shit,” she says, jumping up and hurrying to pick up the glass.

  By the tim
e I get up to her to help, she’s already crying, hot tears streaming down into her glass-filled hands. “I fucked it all up,” she sobs. I’m just a big, stupid fuck up.”

  I kneel down, avoiding the glass and hug her. “There are other guys, but you only have one son. It’s not too late to change for him.”

  She sniffs, looking down at her shaking hands and gets up to throw away the glass. She pauses in front of the cabinet and then opens the doors above the sink, reaching behind some plates to pull out a bottle of liquor. She opens it and pours it down the sink, following it with several other bottles of alcohol she produces from various places in the kitchen.

  Before I leave she hugs me tightly. “You’re a good friend, Sandra. You deserve better than the way I’ve treated you all these years.”

  I hug her back. “I’m ready to start over if you are,” I whisper.

  As I’m leaving Tara’s house, I’m grabbed by the arm. I’m about to scream when I realize who it is.

  “Mark? What are you doing? Let me go,” I snap, yanking my arm away from him.

  He laughs off my discomfort, patting down the air to try to get me to calm down. “Look. I came by to tell you not to waste your time tomorrow. I know what you and your employees are planning. Let me tell you. It won’t work. Not a chance in hell.”

  The corner of Mark’s mouth pulls up in a sneer and he hitches his pants, leaning close enough that I can smell his sour breath. “Tell me, Sandra. Do you honestly believe you’re going to sell enough fucking baked goods to get the money? Come on. Be realistic.”

  I purse my lips and force a tight smile. “If you didn’t think there was a chance of me raising the money, why are you creeping around at night trying to talk me out of doing it?”

  He runs his tongue along the bottom of his teeth, nodding his head and grinning. “I see why my brother likes you. Tell you what, Sandra. Once this all blows over, you ever get tired of oil stains on your sheets you give me call, okay? Here’s my card.”