Single Dad

by Noelle Adams

  I have no idea what my answer will be. I know what I want, but the fact that I want it so much is worrying.

  Surely it’s not good for me to be so invested in a disposable relationship. A little part of me knows that this is a clear warning sign, and if I’m doing what’s best for me, I’ll protect myself by ending it now.

  But the rest of me hates the thought of it.

  Because I’m so focused on talking to Max this evening, I’m stunned speechless when there’s a knock on my open office door at ten o’clock in the morning.

  I look up, expecting one of my coworkers.

  Instead, I see Rika. She’s dressed in shorts and a Jane Austen T-shirt, and she’s looking at me soberly through her glasses.

  I jump—literally jump—when I process who’s standing there. It takes a full minute to find my voice. “Rika,” I say at last, coming out from behind the desk to greet her. “What are you doing here?”

  “Can I talk to you for a minute?” She glances both ways down the hall as if she expects someone to be lurking.

  “Sure. Come on in.” I close the door halfway and gesture toward my side chair. “Do you want to sit down?”

  “No. That’s okay. I can’t stay long anyway. Dad doesn’t know I’m here. He’d be mad.”

  Since she’s standing, I don’t sit down, although my knees are wobbling slightly. “Why are you here?”

  “I wanted to talk to you.” She looks as nervous as I feel.

  “I hope you’re not upset that I knew your dad when I was chatting with you in the library the past few months. I really had no idea you’re his daughter.” This is important to me. I can’t let her believe I was sneaking around trying to get her to like me because I’m into her dad.

  “I know.” She looks down at the floor and then up again at me. “I saw your face when he came up to us last week. Both of you were really surprised.”

  That eases one of my worries but not enough to let me relax. “Okay. I’m glad you know that. What did you want to talk about?”

  “My dad.” She looks down again. Then up. Then to both sides.

  Her fidgets are making me even antsier. “What about your dad?”

  She finally bursts out with it. “Please take him back!”

  I blink. “What?”

  “Please take him back,” she repeats in a less abrupt tone. “Please don’t break up with him.”

  I’m so shocked my vision blurs. I can barely get words out of my tight throat. “Rika, that’s not—”

  “I know it’s not my business.” She clearly misunderstood what I was trying to say, but she’s so urgent she starts to ramble. “Dad keeps telling me there’s nothing to worry about. But he’s been so upset all week. He pretends not to be, but I know he is. He’s been happy, and now he’s not. I’m not an idiot. I know what happened. You broke up with him, and now he’s sad all the time. I see his face when he doesn’t think I’m looking. I know he’s sad. So please take him back.”

  Oh God, this is horrible. It’s horrible. Because everything is such a mess, and Rika is really upset, and she doesn’t even know the real situation.

  And what she mistakenly thinks has happened is exactly what I want to have happened, which makes it even worse.

  “Rika, your dad and I weren’t—”

  “He told me he was seeing you but that it didn’t work out. But he was so happy before. We were both happy. He’s really a great dad. And he’s nice and smart and funny. Maybe you could be happy with him. I know he’s kind of old, and maybe you don’t want to date someone with a girl my age—”

  “Oh no, honey,” I break in, fighting against an aching pressure of tears. “It’s not about you at all. I promise it’s not about you.”

  “But you broke up with him after you found out about me.” Rika’s voice breaks on the last words. She sniffs a few times before she continues, “I don’t want it to be my fault.”

  I can’t stand it anymore. I reach out to squeeze her shoulder. “It’s not your fault. I promise you that. It’s not your fault at all. I liked you long before I ever knew your dad. That’s a promise.”

  “Really?” She’s trying so hard to control her emotions that it breaks my heart.

  “Yes, really. I promise.” A tear streams down my cheek. There’s no way I can stop it. “I promise, Rika. I like you better than any other girl I’ve ever met. We love the same books. You’re a kindred spirit.”

  She gives me a little smile, so I know I’ve gotten through to her. But then she goes on, “Then can you please give Dad another chance? He likes you so much. He’ll try so hard to make you happy.”

  I have to brush away a couple more tears, and I know it’s because I want so much to believe what she’s saying.

  But she’s a child. A smart, thoughtful one, but a child nonetheless. And she has no idea what’s happened between Max and me.

  She thinks we were dating for real, and we never were.

  It takes me a minute to come up with an appropriate response. “Your dad and I will both try to make the best decisions about this, but whatever happens isn’t your fault at all.”

  “But I don’t want him to be sad all the time like he’s been this week. He was happy when he was with you.”

  Has he really been sad? Surely she’s not completely wrong about that?

  Maybe Max has missed me the way I’ve missed him.

  I shouldn’t feel that flare of hope, but I do.

  “I don’t know what to tell you, Rika, but I’m sure it will work out.” There’s an edge of desperation in my tone now. If this conversation goes on too much longer, I’ll burst into tears.

  Rika gives me a long, mournful look, but she finally nods. “Okay. I have to go. Dad’s taking me to my mom’s at lunchtime today. But maybe you can think about it. Dad might be kind of bossy, and he tries too hard to always get into your head, but he’s better than anyone else in the world. He could make you happy if you let him.”

  Fortunately, I’m relieved of the burden of finding a response to that because she walks out of my office. I go to the doorway and watch as she disappears down the hall.

  Then I close and lock my door, and I cry.

  RIKA TOLD ME THAT MAX was taking her up to see her mom at lunchtime today, so a foolish part of me keeps hoping that he’ll call or text in the afternoon.

  I want him to miss me as much as I miss him, which would mean he doesn’t want to wait any longer than necessary to talk to me.

  But I don’t hear from him. The whole afternoon passes in long, slow, tedious minutes, and Max doesn’t contact me at all.

  Whatever silly hope sprang up in my heart after Rika’s visit starts to die as the day goes on.

  My other hope—that he’ll be waiting outside the library for me as I leave at five o’clock—is snuffed out when there’s no sign of him or anyone else as I walk down the steps.

  It’s fine.

  It’s expected.

  This is what I knew the situation was. Rika just misunderstood in her innocence.

  A man doesn’t grieve the ending of a disposable relationship. That’s why it’s disposable in the first place. So he doesn’t have to.

  I come up with my plan as I slowly walk home.

  I’ll text Max right away. I’ll tell him Rika came to see me and she’s upset about things, so we should talk. Then when he calls, I’ll tell him that we have to end this so things don’t get any more complicated.

  I don’t have to tell him I’ve started to want more.

  He doesn’t have to know that.

  No one has to know I was so foolish except me.

  I fight tears as I walk the final block. I hate that I’ve been weepy lately, but there’s nothing I can do. It hurts, and I cry when I’m hurt.

  I’m wiping away a stray tear as I turn up the front walk toward my building.

  I jerk to a stop when I see Max sitting on the bottom step.

  He’s wearing a black shirt and gray trousers. He looks as tired and drained as I
feel.

  I open my mouth to say, “Max,” but all that comes out is a little squeak.

  He stands up as soon as he sees me. His gray eyes search my face and body with an urgency that’s almost desperate.

  I try again to speak. This time I get out “Wha—”

  “You said we could talk this weekend,” he says hoarsely, as if I asked a coherent question. “So I’m here. To talk.”

  “Ooookay.” I stand like a statue, clinging to the strap of my purse. I have no idea what to do.

  “Can I come inside?” He’s taken a few steps toward me. He reaches out as if to support me but then drops his hand.

  I nod since that’s easier than getting a word out. I unlock the front door. He follows me into the entry hall. I check my mail since that’s something to do, but there’s nothing but a piece of junk mail. Then I walk up the stairs to my apartment and unlock the door.

  Max is behind me the whole way.

  I let him inside and then close and lock the door. I put down my purse and keys on the table where I always keep them.

  There. That’s all I can do. No other tasks to distract me. I shift from foot to foot and give Max a nervous, upward glance.

  I finally think of something to say. “Rika—”

  “She came to talk to you this morning. I know. She told me. I’m sorry she put you on the spot like that.” Max sounds calm and controlled but not in his normal, relaxed way. It feels almost intentional. It’s not like him at all.

  “It’s okay. She’s really upset about things.” I stare down at the wide planks of my hardwood floors.

  “She’s not the only one.”

  My eyes shoot up to his face.

  He takes a weird little breath. Louder than it should be. “Are you going to break up with me?”

  My lips are too dry. I try to moisten them, but my tongue is dry too. “Max, we were never really... really...”

  “We were together. And I need to know if it’s over now. I hope you’ll tell me straight out because if I have to wait any longer to dread the coming doom, I’m seriously going to have a breakdown.”

  “Max—”

  “Katrina, please.” His voice is thick and low. “Just tell me.”

  “I don’t... I don’t know.”

  That’s not the answer I had prepared. It’s not what I was planning to say.

  But none of this is going how I thought it would. I twist my hands together and try to make my brain work.

  His face changes unexpectedly. That tight restraint breaks, and something ignites in his eyes. He takes a long step toward me. “If you don’t know, then maybe you don’t want it to end either.”

  “I don’t want it to end. Max, I don’t. But I need to do what’s best for me. I told you that was what I’ve been working on, and I don’t think it’s good for me to be in a disposable relationship anymore. I’m sorry. I understand if you’re disappointed because we have had fun together. But I just can’t do that anymore.”

  His features twist, and he makes a weird sound. I have no idea what he’s feeling until he takes another step closer and reaches out to take both my hands in his. “Katrina, don’t you get it?”

  “Get what?”

  “Why the hell do you think I’ve been so upset that my daughter had to go beg you not to dump me? This isn’t disposable to me. I don’t just want to have sex with you. I want to...” His face twists again, like he’s struggling to get it said. “I want to date you.”

  My mouth drops open. “You... do?”

  He’s almost smiling now. For the first time since I found him on my front steps. “Well, yeah. Didn’t you understand that?”

  “No! I didn’t understand that. You told me you only wanted a relationship you could throw away when it stopped being convenient.”

  “I never said throw away. I never would have said that. But you’re right. That’s what I thought I wanted. But I was stupid. I wanted you from the moment I saw you, and I was crazy to think casual sex would be enough to answer that... that need I felt for you. It’s not enough. The thought of letting you go makes me miserable, so I think I better date you for real.” He slants me a little look that’s almost shy. “If that’s all right with you.”

  I raise a hand to cover my mouth. A little giggle spills out.

  His expression is finally relaxing. His eyes are warm and fond. He raises one hand to cup my cheek. “Is that a yes?”

  “Yes.” I nod and can’t stop nodding. “Yes. I want that too.”

  He gives a muffled groan and pulls me into a tight hug.

  I squeeze his big, firm body between my arms, and I feel good and safe and happy for the first time in more than a week.

  Because this is what I want.

  He is who I want.

  And maybe he wants me too. For more than just disposable sex.

  It’s a minute before he draws back. He tilts up my head to search my face, and then he gives me his slow, intimate smile as he leans down into a kiss. It’s sweet and soft. Tender. It soothes the broken places in my heart.

  We’re both smiling as he straightens up and pulls me into a gentler hug than before. “I’m sorry I didn’t offer to date you for real from the beginning. I did want that. I think you must know how much I did. But Freddie will always come first for me—she’ll always be at the center of my heart—and I’ll never do anything to hurt her. So I’ve been really careful about relationships ever since Kelly and I got divorced.”

  The words fall over me like a weighted blanket. I know what they mean.

  Some things have changed. I’m not disposable to him. But I’ll also never be his priority. That will always be Rika.

  And that’s okay. That’s how it should be. I wouldn’t want a man who could ever put his daughter second.

  He cares about me. He wants to be with me. That’s enough.

  I’m not sure how long we would have stood there embracing, but eventually Max’s stomach growls loudly.

  I giggle and pull away.

  He gives me a sheepish eye roll. “Sorry about that. I haven’t eaten much in the past few days.”

  “Why not?”

  “Why not? Didn’t you hear what Rika said about my being a pathetic mess?”

  “She didn’t say you were a pathetic mess. She said you were upset.”

  “I was upset. And I didn’t feel much like eating. But I do now. I’m starving. Maybe we could have an early dinner.”

  I’m still laughing a little. “That sounds good to me. I’m hungry too. But I have no groceries, so we either have to go out to eat or go to the store and get something to make.”

  “Let’s go to the store. I don’t feel like going out this evening.”

  “Me either.”

  We go the closest grocery store and buy enough food for the weekend. Then we come home, and we make chicken and roasted vegetables, and we both eat a lot.

  We have sex immediately afterward. Then we watch TV in bed and have sex again later. He takes his time the second round—kissing me all over and making me come three times with his fingers and mouth. Then he turns me over on my hands and knees and fucks me until I come again, and he comes immediately afterward, roaring like he can’t contain the power of his pleasure.

  I’m sated and exhausted afterward, and he feels that way too. I fall asleep in his arms, and I wake up beside him the next morning.

  We’ve done this before. Many times. But it feels different this time.

  Because now I’m more than just a good time to him. I might not be the center of his life or his heart—and I probably never will be—but I’m not disposable anymore.

  Seven

  THE FOLLOWING FRIDAY evening is Rika’s birthday.

  I’m invited to go out to eat with her and Max. The last thing I want to do is invade Rika’s time with her father—particularly on her birthday—so I ask several times to make sure it’s really what she wants.

  Max insists that it is, that Rika made a special point of asking me to come. And wh
en I see her happy face as they pick me up from my apartment, I have to believe that she really is pleased with my presence.

  We go to an Italian restaurant two towns away, which is apparently Rika’s favorite. We all eat a lot of pasta and bread and just a little salad, and then the server brings out an adorable tiny birthday cake with fourteen candles that Max obviously brought and asked them to serve after our meal.

  Rika is flushed and giggling, maybe a little embarrassed about the attention but not enough to get in the way of her enjoyment. It makes me happy to see her this way. The certainty of how close she and Max are, how much she knows that he loves her.

  We do presents after the cake. I did an extensive search and found a beautifully illustrated old hardback of Emily of New Moon to give her. She raves over it, and I catch Max giving me a very warm little smile that feels almost secret, so I figure I picked out a good gift.

  Max gives her the entire set of Alcott’s books. Plus a pretty gold necklace with an angel pendant. She knew the books were coming but not the necklace. I help her put the necklace on, and she keeps touching it so I know she loves it.

  She’s obviously had a really good birthday, and I’ve had a good time too. Not just because Rika is so happy but because I feel like a part of things. Like I fit in with the two of them. Like both of them want me here.

  I never dreamed I’d feel anything of the kind—with a man in his late thirties and a fourteen-year-old girl.

  But here I am. I don’t want the evening to end.

  It does eventually. Max drives me back to my place to drop me off. I say good night to Rika, and she thanks me again for the book. Then she says she hopes I’ll hang out with them again.

  I’m smiling as Max walks me up to the door.

  He’s quiet, which isn’t like him, so I study his face as we stand on the porch. “Is everything all right?”

  “Yes,” he says. I see the warmth in his eyes in the low light of the evening, and it assures me that he can’t be upset or worried about anything. He doesn’t look like he’s going to push me away.