Arrogant Single Dad: A Hero Club Novel

by Alyse Zaftig

  “Dinos,” Annabelle insisted. We walked into the Dinosphere. Annabelle let go of my hand then and danced around the exhibit. I felt younger when I was around her; there was still some mystery when it came to giant dinosaurs. The exhibit itself was made for younger children, but Annabelle didn’t point at any of the signs to ask us to read them to her. We stayed there for as long as it took Annabelle to soak in the dinosaurs she had already seen.

  “Playscape!” said Annabelle. She took her father’s hand this time to take us to the Playscape, which was only for children 5 and under. She darted into the thick of things and quickly was playing with a little boy who wore a Mickey Mouse shirt. There were tons of toys around and a soft floor to cushion any falls that the kids had.

  “I go here when I want alone time,” Logan confessed to me. Annabelle was fully engrossed in playing. “She’s been to the Children’s Museum at least once a week for the last year. We’ve been to every exhibit that they’ve had.”

  “She’s having a fun childhood,” I observed. “And it’s probably good for her to get used to playing with other kids since she has a nanny at home.”

  “Yeah, socialization is one of the reasons that we have a family membership here.”

  I had read some homeschooling blogs, so I knew that socialization could happen in a variety of ways. “When is she going to go to preschool, or are you going to wait until kindergarten?”

  “Probably kindergarten.” He shrugged. “Annabelle isn’t in a hurry to go somewhere that I’m not.”

  Annabelle heard her name and looked at us for a moment before going back to playing with the other boy. She had what looked like a dodecahedron in her hand and was smashing it against the floor so that the shape was squished before reverting to its normal shape. “Not having a mom makes our bond that much stronger.” Logan shrugged again. I knew that he wasn’t all that comfortable talking about personal stuff, but we had always had a connection.

  “You’re doing a great job,” I observed. “She’s a happy camper and independent.”

  “Only to a certain extent. She likes being able to find me wherever she is.” Logan sighed. “I love being with her, but I get to be alone together when we go to the museum.”

  “How much have you dated since Romi left?” I blushed a little bit. I could not believe I asked him about his love life. He’d kissed me, but I didn’t know how far things would go. I just didn’t understand where we were or what would happen. He had a life in Indiana. I had a life in New York.

  “Not much. For one thing, I have to pay the nannies extra for date nights. And for another, we’re barely ever apart. Annabelle cries when I leave for date nights.” He shrugged. “She doesn’t cry when I leave for meetings.”

  “She probably is used to having her father all to herself.” I made a gesture with one hand. “And who can blame her? Her dad is a pretty great guy.”

  Logan smiled at me. “I’m glad you think so.” He squeezed my hand. From the look in his eyes, I got the impression that he would’ve kissed me if we had been alone.

  “Daddy, look!” Annabelle ran over to us on the squishy mat. “I want one.” It was a weird, misshapen toy.

  “We’ll see if the downstairs store has it, pumpkin.”

  “You spoil her.”

  “It’s hard not to.” Logan shook his head. “Her playroom is a disaster zone. We don’t have room for more toys, but we always get more somehow.”

  “You don’t say no to her very often, do you?”

  “I’m trying to foster her executive leadership skills,” Logan deadpanned.

  I just shook my head. “Spoiled.”

  “I’m not spoiled!” Annabelle cut in. “I’m just bossy.” She ran off again.

  “My time is taken up by Annabelle.” Logan pulled out his phone and looked at it. “And I’m not good at Tinder or Snap or whatever the kids are up to these days.”

  “Neither am I. I have a Snap, but all I get are stories from my cousin’s kids taking pictures of themselves inside of Krispy Kreme or other random places. I don’t really know how to play the game because I’ve been out of it for so long.”

  “I’m surprised that you’re still single.” Logan stopped for a moment and continued. “I always imagined that you’d have a dog and 2.5 kids by now. My mom told me that you weren’t married.”

  “Did you ask?”

  “Our moms talk, you know that. And my mom knows that you’re the one that got away.”

  “So does mine.” I didn’t know what to say. Our moms were friends, but it sounded like they’d been keeping tabs on us in hopes that we’d get back together someday. I didn’t know how to have a long-distance relationship, especially when one of us had a kid to look after.

  Annabelle ran straight at her dad. I noticed that she tended to run instead of just walking. “Look, Daddy!” She had a toy airplane in her hand and was making airplane noises while she dive bombed him. He swept her into a fast hug, making her laugh by tickling her armpit. Then he let her go back to the little boy wearing the light blue Mickey Mouse shirt. His mom was behind him, scrolling on her phone. I envied her in that moment. My days were spent behind a computer, not watching my kids. If I had stayed in Indiana, maybe I would’ve been married by now. I shook my head. I knew that New York was the best place for me. Indiana beckoned with a siren song of domesticity. I ate plenty of dinners of cold cereal over a sink. I didn’t have the time to raise kids. Annabelle was a cutie, though. I knew that Logan said his side concern was his business. My mom had told me it was a big one. I didn’t want to pry, but my mom said that he was a millionaire. And technically speaking, depending on valuation, so was I. A lot of people in Indiana were short on money, but I was short on time. There were way too many things to do in a given day. My assistant had been hinting that she could run the show for a week for a while; my parents had finally been firm about me taking some time off. It had been a while since I’d stopped to smell the roses.

  Annabelle was done. The little boy had taken her airplane from her, and she was starting to cry. Logan lunged forward to scoop her up. “You have to share, pumpkin.”

  “Sharing is for stupid heads!” shouted Annabelle.

  “Okay, time for time out.” Logan shook his head. “You know we can only stay here when you play nice.”

  “He stole my airplane,” wailed Annabelle. Her face was red now and her fists were tight. “Make him give it back.”

  “I will not,” said Logan calmly. “You’re going home now.”

  “Why are you being mean, Daddy?” Annabelle knew how to pull the right strings.

  “He’s not being mean. Playtime is just over, sweetheart.”

  She was starting to breathe a little more slowly. “Can we play tea party at home?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay.” She stuck her thumb in her mouth. “I was done anyway.”

  And just like that, her tantrum was over. I was relieved that Logan knew how to stop her tantrums. We went back to the car, Annabelle consented to being seat-belted into her car seat, and we drove back to Carmel. Annabelle fell asleep on the way back, so Logan carried her out of the car and into her bedroom. She didn’t protest at all, worn out from playing so much. She was still at the age where nap time was a good reprieve from chasing a kid around.

  “I normally work when she’s down for a nap,” Logan said to me.

  “I’m banned from checking my emails right now. My assistant changed my password and everything.” I shrugged. “But I could watch TV while you work.”

  “Great. I don’t have cable, but I have Disney Plus.” He handed me the remote to his TV. “Go wild.”

  He got out a lap desk so that he could work while I surfed around Disney Plus. There was plenty there for adults. They had National Geographic stuff. I settled one watching old and new Pixar shorts. I remembered some of them, but Luxo Jr. was a cute short that I’d never seen before.

  It felt cozy to just wait for the baby to sleep while quietly watching TV next to
Logan. We had always been good at working in companionable silence. Back in high school, we had done our homework together. Now, I was on an enforced break from work. It was funny how being a millionaire changed almost nothing at all. Both of us prized silence when it came to concentrating.

  Logan broke the silence. “Are you hungry?”

  Chapter 12

  I wasn’t. “I can eat if you want to.”

  “Annabelle just needs microwaved nuggets. I normally have my executive chef service bring in meals, but they’re closed down this week. How does pizza sound?”

  “Pizza sounds great.” Logan and I had almost identical tastes in food, so we didn’t need to confer on what to get. He had pepperoni and mushroom pizzas just like I did. He called into the local pizza store and got extra pepperoni, which was new.

  By the time that the pizza came, Logan had closed his laptop. The doorbell woke up Annabelle, who started to scream, “Daddy!”

  “Can you get her?” asked Logan. He was trying to pay the pizza guy.

  “Sure,” I said and went to her bedroom. “Hi, sweetheart.”

  “You’re not my daddy,” pouted Annabelle.

  “He’s getting pizza.”

  “With extra pepperoni?” asked Annabelle.

  “Yup.”

  “I love pepperoni,” she declared.

  “Are you the reason he gets extra?”

  “Yeah, because he loves me extra.” Annabelle dove into my arms from her bed. It seemed that I was going to be carrying her into the kitchen. When we got there, Logan was opening the box. It smelled fantastic. I set her down in her highchair.

  “I get the garlic sauce!” yelled Annabelle.

  “Indoor voice,” Logan said. “And of course you can get the garlic sauce.” He set the little garlic sauce cup in front of her. Then he was getting out a knife to cut Annabelle’s pizza into bite-sized pieces. She was impatiently pulling at the garlic cup. I was surprised that a three-year-old could even open it without spilling everywhere.

  “She loves pizza, so we get it at least once a week. They know her order,” Logan explained. He was done cutting her pizza now. He put a brightly colored Minnie Mouse plate in front of her. She dug in with gusto.

  Logan and I ate our pizza slices with our hands. It was like deja vu, but Annabelle made everything different. I could see Romi’s eyes in her face, but otherwise she looked like Logan. Annabelle had tons of energy and the firm knowledge that every adult around her was there for her convenience, nothing more. She made me laugh with her self-confidence; she was a little spoiled. The extra pepperoni definitely added a kick that I liked. I thought that little kids didn’t like spicy food, but Annabelle was happy enough to eat the pepperoni.

  “I’m done!” proclaimed Annabelle. “Tea party time.”

  “Wait until the adults are done. But you can set up your tea party set,” Logan said.

  Logan and I made a dent on the rest of the pizza while Annabelle got out her tea party set and some stuffed animals to also attend her tea party. As soon as I was full, I got up and threw away the paper plate that was all greasy from the slices of pizza. “I’m stuffed.”

  Logan was done, too. He was getting up to throw away his plate, too. Annabelle’s plate was the only one that we’d need to wash. I figured that a single dad made things easy on himself.

  Logan and I sat down for a tea party, which lasted for about 5 minutes before Annabelle wanted to do something else. Logan cleaned up the table then as I played with mega blocks with Annabelle. She liked to build up walls that she just got to knock over. She started to get sleepy again and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand.

  “I’ll put her down for a nap,” said Logan. She put her cheek down on his shoulder as he swept her away. It was really cute to watch them together. I would never have guessed that Logan would become a single dad. But he was great at it. He put her back to bed without any trouble, since she was so tired.

  “What do you do for fun?” I asked Logan when he came back out.

  Chapter 13

  “Work out when I can get the nanny to stay extra time. I have some buddies who play doubles tennis with me once in a while. How about you?”

  “I haven’t had spare time in a while. I guess I just read, but you already knew that.”

  “No other hobbies?”

  “Not right now.”

  “Didn’t you used to crochet? I have a scarf somewhere…”

  “I used to, but I don’t even have a crochet hook in New York. It’s something that’s probably still in my bedroom here.”

  “You could knit Annabelle a scarf or a blanket.”

  “I don’t have any material or a crochet hook with me. I can call my mom to ask her where my stuff is, though.”

  “Go ahead.”

  I shrugged and got out my phone. “Mom, do you still have my sewing chest?”

  “Yes, sweetheart. And hello to you, too.”

  “Hi Mom. I’m doing fine. Can I swing by the house and get my sewing chest?”

  “Sure. Do you need anything else?”

  “Yarn.”

  “I bought some on sale just last week. It’ll be ready when you come home.”

  I stood and stretched. “I guess I’m going home to get some yarn and my sewing chest.”

  Logan said, “You could probably get a scarf done today.”

  “Probably.” I don’t know why he was being so intense about getting a scarf for his daughter. It was summertime, so it wasn’t like she needed it right away. I did like making something out of just a bunch of yarn, though. It was relaxing to crochet, although I hadn’t done it in years. I popped out to my rental car and drove back home.

  “Having fun?” my mom asked me when I got out of the car. My sewing chest was in her arms; she had a ball of pink yarn on top.

  “Yes.” I didn’t know what else to say. My mother thought that Logan and I had already reconnected in a serious way. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that she was making a play to get me to move back to Indiana. Logan had a daughter who needed to stay in a stable place. I knew that there were little kids in NYC, but I wouldn’t want to raise a little one in the busy city.

  “You haven’t wanted to touch your sewing chest in years,” remarked my mother.

  “I know…” I didn’t want to explain the scarf thing to my mom. “I guess I just have more time for hobbies now.”

  “It’s good for you to have some fun. Your dad and I have been worried about how focused you’ve been for the past couple years, with all your time eaten up by your business.”

  “I’m fine, Mom. I just am going to make a scarf, that’s all.”

  “Do you remember how to start and finish, like your aunt taught you?”

  “Yes, Mom.” I took the sewing chest with the yarn balanced carefully. “Thanks for finding it.”

  “I love you, honey.”

  “Love you, too.”

  I drove my rental car back to Logan’s house without incident. When I rang the doorbell, I could hear Annabelle running for the front door.

  “Candace!” she yelled as she swung open the door. It occurred to me that in New York, Annabelle wouldn’t be joyfully opening the front door for whomever came. Her trust in strangers and ease in new situations were byproducts of her living in Indiana with her father. I came in the front door with the supplies.

  “I have pink yarn, if you want to play with it.”

  “My daddy says you’re making a scarf.”

  “Yup, a pink scarf just for you.”

  “I like pink!”

  I opened up my sewing chest to take out my crochet hook. “I’m going to crochet it.”

  “I’ve never seen anybody crochet before.” Annabelle stuck her thumb in her mouth before saying, “Grandma knits sometimes.”

  “Crocheting is easier than knitting,” I explained. “Some people don’t feel that way, but it’s just pulling loops through. For me, it’s the fastest way to make a scarf.”

  “Why don’
t you just buy one?”

  “You get to put love into the scarf when you make it yourself.” I sat on the couch and started off my crocheting. Scarves didn’t require an actual pattern or much skill. My aunt, who was crafty, taught me to crochet when I was younger. My mom could do it too, but not as well as my aunt.

  Annabelle watched me crochet for a few minutes before turning on the TV for Peppa Pig. Her attention span was about average for a three-year-old girl. Logan was in his office on a phone call. I could hear a little murmuring coming out of the office. Annabelle knew how to amuse herself; I bet that her beeline for Peppa Pig was directly because her dad wasn’t there to monitor her screen time.

  I was done with the scarf in almost no time. I did a single stitch, and Annabelle was small. “Do you want to try it on?”

  “Yes!” she hollered. She took the scarf and immediately put it around her neck. She tied it and struck a pose. “Do I look like a model?”

  “Yes.” She was so cute with my pink scarf around her neck. She rushed at me with her arms out, and I picked her up and gave her a smacking kiss on her temple. I didn’t spend much time with kids in my normal life. Being a parent was a weird one-way door which meant most of my friends didn’t have time to hang out anymore.

  “I’m hungry,” Annabelle announced after she was done trying on the pink scarf. “What’s for dinner?”

  “We still have some pizza, but it’s not enough for three of us. I can heat up pizza if you want.”

  “I had pizza for lunch,” Annabelle countered. “Can I have McDonald’s?”

  I got the feeling that Annabelle was trying to con me into something. “I can get your chicken nuggets out of the freezer.”

  “I want McDonald’s!” she said, stomping her left foot.

  “You can’t have McDonald’s,” said Logan, entering the living room. He was done with his phone call just in time to avert a toddler tantrum. “You can have pizza if you want it. We also have chicken nuggets.”