Cowboy Baby Daddy

by Claire Adams

  She laughed, hugging me tightly. “I love you too,” she said.

  I felt happiness surge inside of me. I'd had many great moments in my life: the night Emily had agreed to be my wife, the night I'd graduated from medical school, the night that Emma was born. This night ranked right up there with all of those nights, one of the best nights of my life.

  I already couldn't wait to start planning my future with Olivia, everything from Anne's birth to our wedding and honeymoon, all the way up to our eventual retirement.

  I smiled down at her, and I could tell that she was thinking the same thing.

  Epilogue

  Olivia

  As I leaned down into the car to arrange the car seats, my hat was knocked askew, the broad brim too much for the small space to take. I grinned and tossed it onto the front seat. I'd put it back on when we got to our destination. For now, I had some bigger issues on my hands, like getting the three car seats to fit together in the back seat of the car. You would think that with as many times as I arranged them back there, the practice would have made me an expert at it by now. But I still struggled every time. Finally, I managed to get them, though.

  “All right, hop in,” I said to Emma. She did so, buckling her seat belt. They were hyped up on excitement simply from going somewhere.

  Meanwhile, Eric came out of the house with little 6-month-old Davey and handed the boy over to me. “Just changed his diaper, so knock on wood, we should be okay for a while,” he said, smirking at me, because we both knew how reliable that was.

  Still, there was nothing that could bring down my mood today. It was one of the warmest days of summer, the perfect day for a picnic with my family. I couldn't wait.

  Finally, all three kids were strapped in, and Eric had loaded everything into the trunk.

  “Phew,” I said under my breath as we buckled ourselves in and he backed carefully out of the driveway. Getting all of the kids ready to go, dressed in appropriate clothing and wearing sunblock, and then actually herding them out of the house and into the car, was never an easy feat. Every time we made it, I sent up a small thanks to whatever bit of universe might be listening in.

  Eric smiled over at me, but I could see a question in his eyes. I knew that there were some moments where we both wondered whether we had taken on too much, with three kids between us now. But this wasn't one of those moments.

  I reached over and caught his hand where it rested on the gearshift, squeezing it lightly. Eric's smile broadened. He was far too cute for his own good.

  The cemetery was quiet when we got there, and it was cool in the shade of the copious, leafy trees. Some people might consider it a strange place to have a picnic, but it was peaceful there, and a good place for reflection. We tried to come back at least a few times a year as a family, to visit Emily's grave as well as Mom's.

  Well, it was quiet until the kids got there, anyway. I smiled over at Emma and Anne, as Emma chased the younger girl around. Emma might have the height advantage, but Anne was agile as a little colt. And, I suspected that Emma was letting her get away. She was a great big sister, and I loved watching the two of them play together: it reminded me of everything that I'd always wanted when I was growing up.

  Eric helped me spread out the picnic blanket beneath one of the larger trees and then called over to the girls. “Remember to watch out for the gravestones!”

  “We will, Daddy!” Emma called back.

  “We will, Daddy!” Anne echoed.

  I smiled at them and started unpacking the lunch. The beauty of my situation washed over me and gave me pause. I’d lost a lot in my life, but I’d gained a lot as well. I was grateful for just being me for a few minutes as I watched them.

  “Do you want me to help you out or go see if I can catch the girls?” Eric asked, his voice pulling me from my reverie.

  I glanced over to where Davey was happy lying, staring wide-eyed up at the leaves. He was being no trouble at the moment, so I smiled at Eric. “Go catch the girls, if you can,” I told him. “We'll be fine here.”

  “All right,” Eric said, bending over to give me a quick kiss. Then, he raced off after our two girls. I grinned, listening to them screech with laughter.

  My heart swelled with love for all three of them, plus Davey. To this day, several years after our wedding, I was still so glad that we'd been able to put aside our differences and build all of this. I had never been this happy in my life, and I didn't know if such happiness would have been possible without the four of them in my life.

  Eric returned not too long afterward, one girl slung over each shoulder even though I knew Emma was probably getting a little too big for that to be comfortable. It was hard to believe that she would be seven soon. Then again, it was equally hard to believe that Anne would be starting preschool in the fall.

  I felt a little pang of sadness at the thought of her not being home to keep me company for much longer, but then again, I now had Davey to keep me occupied. And keep me occupied, he certainly had! He was a lot fussier than Anne had ever been, and as if on cue, he started to make unhappy noises right them.

  “Right, I'll feed the girls, you take care of the little one,” Eric suggested, already started to scoop potato salad onto each of the plates.

  I smiled gratefully at him as I scooped up Davey into the crook of my arm. I still didn't know what I would have done if I hadn't had him there beside me every step of the way. Anne hadn't been anywhere near as fussy as Davey was, but that didn't mean that she'd been without her challenges. One of these days, I was going to have to find a special way to show Eric how much I appreciated his help.

  Not that we don't already show that to one another every single day, I thought as he happened to look up and smile over at me.

  “Eww, you guys are being gross again,” Emma said, covering her eyes, and her younger sister followed her lead. Davey started giggling, probably thinking that we were about to play a game of peekaboo, and I had to roll my eyes fondly at the girls.

  “Eat your lunch,” I said.

  “Yes, Mom,” Emma sighed.

  We ate our lunches, Eric taking over bottle duty midway through so that I could get a few bites in as well. Then, the girls were off again.

  I shook my head. “You'd think that running around like that so soon after eating would make both of them sick,” I commented. Eric laughed as he lay Davey down gently into his chair. The baby, for all his usual fussiness, yawned and drifted off to sleep after a moment. “You're a miracle worker,” I said, nodding toward the boy.

  “Is that what they're calling the boys these days?” Eric teased. Then, his face turned serious. “Come on, let me work one more miracle on you,” he coaxed. “Turn around.”

  I did so and groaned as he dug his talented fingers into the knotted muscles of my shoulders. “Fuck, that feels good,” I said, glad the kids were running around so that I didn't have to worry about my choice of language.

  “When we get home, I'm going to watch after the kids for a little while, and you're going to go upstairs to take a nice bubble bath,” he said.

  “Mm,” I hummed, letting my head drop forward as he continued working. “I can't let you do that, though. Three kids on your own is a lot.”

  “Well, good thing Emma and Anne are going to be exhausted and will probably fall asleep watching a movie,” Eric said, smirking, and I laughed at how well-thought-out his plan was.

  “That would be nice,” I said.

  “There's a nice bottle of wine in the cabinet with your name on it, too,” Eric continued. “I'll bring you a glass.”

  “God, I don't know how I got this lucky,” I sighed as his fingers worked at a particularly tough knot.

  “I don't know how I got this lucky,” Eric retorted. “Three beautiful, healthy kids, and a beautiful, talented wife as well? I must have won the lottery.” He leaned in and kissed my neck, and I shivered, feeling a surge of pleasure go through me. We hadn't had the chance to take much time to ourselves lately, what with
Davey being as prone to crying as he was, but I was hoping that we'd get the chance to spend some quality time together soon. For now, though, it just felt honestly amazing to have his fingers working the kinks out of my shoulders.

  All too soon, the girls were running back over to us, faces flushed with exertion.

  Anne climbed into my lap, cuddling close, and I let her do that even though it was fiendishly warm. “Mommy, can we get ice cream on the way home?” she asked.

  I looked over at Eric, raising an eyebrow at him. “That's up to Daddy,” I told her.

  “Why is it up to me?” Eric asked before giving me a look. It was almost humorous how he wanted me to make the decisions regarding the kiddos. It was good cop/bad cop of course, but it was his turn to play bad cop. As if.

  “Because you'll be the one driving the car,” I said sweetly.

  He laughed. “It has been a while since we had ice cream, hasn't it?” he asked.

  “Yes!” Emma said. “Like, ages and ages and ages and ages. I don't even remember the last time.”

  “I highly doubt that,” Eric said mildly, but I could see the grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “If we can all agree on a flavor, I don't see why not,” he said. The girls cheered, unfortunately waking up their brother, who started to howl.

  I smiled at Eric and reached over to scoop up the boy. “I'm going to take a little walk,” I told him, getting to my feet with the boy still in my arms.

  “All right,” Eric said. I could see from his look that he was concerned and wanted to check that I was all right, but whatever he saw in my answering expression must have reassured him, because his frown lines soon smoothed out. “We'll be right here when you get back.”

  I wandered down the aisles of graves until I reached the one that I had visited a dozen times before: Jeannie Sable—Loving Wife, Mother, and Grandmother.

  Of course, she had died before she got to meet either Anne or Davey, but I had been adamant that they put that last bit on her tombstone regardless. For now, I knelt down beside the grave, reaching out with one hand to lay down the flowers that I had brought with me. Daffodils, Mom's favorite.

  “Hey Mom,” I whispered, even though it had been a while since I'd felt her spirit there with me. “This is Davey, your first grandson. He'll be 7 months old next week. Isn't he a beauty?”

  I had tears in my eyes, just saying the words, but I was happy to have this illusion of her meeting the boy.

  Suddenly, a soft breeze blew, and when I looked up, there was a bird perched on top of her gravestone, its head cocked to the side as it considered us. It hopped up and down for a moment and then flew off, prompting Davey to clap his hands in delight.

  I couldn't help but smile as I got to my feet again, making my way back over to the rest of my family.

  “Are you all right?” Eric asked, pulling me into his arms as we reached him and the girls again.

  I smiled up at him. “I'm better than all right,” I told him truthfully, just happy to be together with him and our children.

  They, or more likely Eric, had already packed up the remains of the picnic, and I nodded toward the car. “Let's go get that ice cream,” I suggested.

  The girls cheered again, but this time, they did it more quietly so as not to upset their brother. “Last one to the car's a rotten egg!” Emma whispered loudly.

  The two of them took off, giggling again, and I smiled. Life was good. Really good.

  “I love you,” I said to Eric as we walked back to the car, my heart on fire and my joy bubbling over.

  He slung an arm around my shoulder, holding me close.

  “I love you more,” he answered.

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  THE SINGLE DAD

  By Claire Adams

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2017 Claire Adams

  Chapter One

  Blake

  I could feel the sweat dripping down the back of my jersey as I adjusted the flag sticking out of the waistband of my sweats. It was a chilly December afternoon to wage a touch football war between the Waltham Police and Fire Department, but a big storm was predicted for the following week, and we were determined that if this were to be our last game of the season, we were going to go out with a bang.

  It was the fourth quarter and the score was tied 21-21 as my firefighters took the field. I listened as my best friend, Tony Williams, outlined our last chance at scoring on our opponents, but in my head I was calculating how much longer I could play before I had to call it quits and go pick up my 16-year-old daughter, Nina, from my ex-wife’s house.

  “B, you listening?” Tony shouted.

  “Yeah, yeah,” I said with a sheepish grin, knowing that he’d repeat the play as soon as we broke out of the huddle.

  “Get your head on, man,” Beatty, the acting offensive lineman, scolded as we lined up for the play.

  “Mind your own fuckin’ business, Beatty,” I shot back, as I took my place at the end of the line.

  Tony moved behind the center and started the call, I watched out of the corner of my eye until I saw the snap, and then took off down the field.

  “Go wide, Gaston! Go wide!” Tony called, as I ran toward the sideline. I turned and saw him drop his arm back and then launch the football in my direction just before two defensive players knocked him over. I could hear Tony swearing a blue streak as I kept my eyes on the ball hurtling toward me. I caught it and took off in a dead run heading for the end zone.

  “Run, you slow son of a bitch!” Tony screamed, as I evaded the defensive players who were definitely bigger, but decidedly slower than I was. A half a yard from the goal line, Joey Vanetti, a young and fit detective who’d recently joined the Waltham PD, grabbed me and yanked me to the ground.

  “Uhf!” I grunted, as I hit the grass and felt the wind rushing out of my lungs. I lay there still clutching the ball to my side trying to catch my breath. When I did, I sat up and grumbled, “It’s touch football you stupid fuck. No tackling!”

  “I didn’t tackle, old man,” Joey laughed, as he offered me a hand. “I pulled you down by your flag.”

  “The hell you did,” I shot back, as I ignored his hand and pushed myself up onto my feet. I was in damn good shape for a 38-year-old man, but not as good as a 23-year-old just out of the Academy. I knew I’d pay for this tomorrow, but right now I was pissed at the guy who’d punched tomorrow’s ticket for me.

  “Chill out, Gaston,” Tony said, as he walked over and stood between the two of us. “Vanetti, you are one seriously stupid mofo. Don’t make me call your CO and tell him how you’ve brought shame upon the squad.”

  “Fuck off, Williams,” Joey said with a grin.

  “Ahh, I love good healthy competition between those who are charged with protecting and serving the public,” Tony crowed, as he took the ball from my arms. Lowering his voice, he added, “It helps me work out the frustration from not getting laid.”

  “Trouble in paradise, Big T?” I asked, as he turned back toward the guys waiting for the next play.

  “My friend, without trouble there would be no paradise,” he sighed. I smacked him on the back of the head as we bent down for the huddle.

  A half an hour later, our victorious team was shaking hands with the vanquished and making plans to meet over at The Lucky Clover on Lexington. Tony pleaded with me to join them all for just one beer, but I had to beg off since Nina was waiting for me to pick her up.

  “Aww, man, I thought divorce would make you more fun,” Tony complained. “Now you’re always going to pick up the kid or heading over to take care of someth
ing at Remy’s condo. Why did you even divorce her if you’re going to still be doing all her work? At least if you’d stayed married, you’d be getting the benefits.”

  “You have no idea what you are talking about,” I chuckled as I shook my head.

  “Oh, that’s right; how are the swingers?” Tony asked, a little too curiously.

  “They’re still after me,” I said, wanting to avoid having this conversation within earshot of any of my co-workers. Tony’s idea of what swingers did was based on out-of-date stereotypes and internet porn, and it often irritated me when he brought the subject up.

  “Yeah, but that wife is smokin’ hot, man!” Tony said, lowering his voice. “I’d hit it if it wasn’t for her old man.”

  “And the fact that you love your wife,” I said with a wry grin.

  “Yeah, well, there’s that, too,” Tony grinned. “But seriously, what a bunch of weirdos, right?”

  “Dude, I’ve explained this to you a million times,” I sighed. “Swingers aren’t the weirdos you imagine them to be. They’ve got their kinks, but a huge part of the whole thing is based on consent and communication. It’s not the pill-popping hippies you think you remember from the life you never lived.”

  “Harsh, man,” Tony said, giving me a fake hurt look. I laughed and slapped him on the back before I climbed up into my pickup and backed out of the parking lot.

  It didn’t take long to get to Remy’s since nowhere in Waltham is more than a short drive, but by the time I was pulling into the drive, my phone was blowing up with messages from Remy asking where I was and when I would pick Nina up. I took a deep breath and reminded myself not to lose my cool in front of my daughter.

  I was halfway up the walk when Remy whipped open the front door and started in on me.

  “You were supposed to be here 45 minutes ago, Blake,” she said, in the disapproving tone that made me simultaneously cringe and want to tell her where to shove her superiority complex.