Single (Single Dads Book 1)

by RJ Scott

  I hugged her hard before setting her down. “Debsy!”

  “Hiya,” she announced and swung around me to peer right in my face. “Didja hide Mia?”

  “No, she’s right there, but she’s sleepy,” I warned, and Debs kissed her gently on the head.

  “I’ll give her more kisses after she’s awake,” she announced, and I didn’t stop her as she opened my secret cupboard. In it, I kept all kinds of bad-for-you snacks. Coming to Uncle Asher’s place meant free access to choose one thing from the cupboard. She selected a Twinkie and disappeared up the stairs. I knew where she would go. I had a bookshelf in the smallest of my two spare rooms, filled with books for her.

  She was my niece, and I loved her and her brother, Evan. I felt the same pain in my heart when they were upset as I did when Mia cried, with an intensity that ripped me apart. Maybe it was a twin thing? Maybe there actually was a physical connection through Siobhan to the kids. Whatever it was, they were Siobhan’s children, and I loved having them in my life. It was seeing her with them that had made me crave my own children. When people had said to me it must be wonderful to be an uncle, they were right, but I wanted more as well. I wanted to give Evan and Debs cousins who would love them unconditionally. I wanted to build our family.

  Evan followed at a more sedate pace, headphones in, and gave me a fist bump. Twelve going on twenty-one, he was a dude who didn’t like to show the world anything but his coolness. He helped himself to chips from the secret cupboard, then sloped off to the stairs, heading up with a muttered, “later,” and then it was just me.

  “Now don’t kill me,” Siobhan started as she came into the kitchen.

  I grinned at her. “Why? What did you do?”

  She stepped to one side, and someone else came into the small space. Someone whom I was meant to call but didn’t, and someone I didn’t really want to see right now.

  Mom.

  I picked Mia up from her rocking seat and held her close. Nothing my mom could say was going to touch Mia, because I refused to let it. I wanted to cover Mia’s ears and run—I’d never felt the flight reflex so keenly.

  “Oh,” Mom said and placed her handbag on the work surface, crossing to peer at her newest grandchild and blocking me in a corner. “I forgot she was so beautiful.”

  I bristled at her emotional statement. What right did she have to make any comment at all?

  I caught Siobhan’s gaze over Mom’s head and glared at her, and all she could do was shrug as if she was saying I should deal with it. Dealing with my mom was the last thing I wanted to do.

  “Uh-huh,” I said and tried to ease out of the blocked area.

  “Can I hold her?”

  “She needs a nap,” I said and sidestepped Mom to take Mia upstairs and put her in her crib. I checked in on Debs, who was surrounded by a pile of books, found Evan in the nursery playing games on his phone, and finally I had no reason not to go back downstairs.

  Mom was waiting for me in the hall, and Siobhan was hovering at the kitchen door.

  “It’s so good to see you,” Mom said.

  “Why are you here?”

  Mom glanced from me to Siobhan and back, then with steely determination, she straightened her spine and tilted her chin.

  “I wanted to see my granddaughter.”

  I had so much I could’ve said to that. About how she’d never wanted me to have a daughter, or how she didn’t want me in a relationship with another man, or hell, that she’d accused me of choosing to be gay. All the hurtful stuff piled into my head, but I wouldn’t give in to the pain. I wanted Mia to know her family, but not the hateful side, not to hear that I was less of a man or that I couldn’t be daddy to my little girl because it wasn’t God’s way.

  “You can’t walk in here and expect a damn thing,” I said.

  She winced, and again, we were at an impasse, and the room was growing smaller around me.

  “I’m sorry,” Mom said, to break the silence. “I don’t know where to start, but for the things I said in the hospital, I’m sorry.”

  What? What did she mean sorry? “It goes back further than the hospital. Like when you told me right at the start that you hoped the surrogate lost the baby.”

  She was stricken. “I didn’t mean it to sound like that, I swear. I only said that God would show us his intent—”

  “Enough with your kind of God. Not in my house, Mom.”

  “I was wrong, and I want you to forgive me.” Mom sounded desperate.

  “Now? You come here now and say that? I love you, but you hate me—”

  “You didn’t make it easy for me to love you—”

  “What the hell, Mom?”

  “—but I couldn’t ever hate you, Ash, please.”

  Siobhan moved between us. “Mom, go and sit in the garden.”

  Only when Mom walked past me slowly and headed outside did I let out the curse that had been wedged inside me. “How could you bring her here now? I didn’t say you could bring her—”

  “I told you if you didn’t call her I would.”

  Anger knifed inside me. “You know why I don’t want to see her—”

  “Go for a walk; get some air.” She sat on the third stair up, a gatekeeper of sorts. “I’ll keep an eye on Mia. Come back in a bit; think about what you want to say.”

  “I don’t want a damn walk.”

  “Go, get that air. Then come back, and we’ll talk, rationally.”

  “But Mia—”

  “I’ll look after Mia. Mom is in the garden—“

  “Are you saying I’m a child who needs to cool off?”

  “No, you both need to get over the fact I brought her with me. Now, the kids are okay. So go.”

  I toed on my sneakers and closed the front door behind me. I got as far as the bushes in the yard three doors down, where I had a good view of my house, and I waited. I should go back, look out for Mia. Why was Siobhan saying me and Mom should talk? Why was that so important?

  I wish I knew.

  Sean

  I’d been out for a run when I rounded the corner and walked straight into Ash. When I say run, it was more of a fast walk and nothing more than a mile, but I felt fitter today than yesterday. Kind of.

  “Hi,” I said and couldn’t help but notice that his dark eyes were framed by the thickest lashes and that he had a small scar over his left eye. How had I not noticed the scar before? Or his lashes? Then I realized he wasn’t returning my smile.

  “Siobhan made me go for a walk. She said I needed air. I thought Mia needed air, not me. I’m thirty-one. I’m a grown-ass man, but she just looked at me and told me she was fine with Mia, needed me to calm down, and that I needed to get air.”

  “Okay—“

  “She just turned up with Mom, as if I’d invited Mom or something. I didn’t invite her, and then Siobhan looked at me and told me I needed air. What if Mom goes up and holds Mia when I’m not there?”

  Wait? Someone needed to supervise a grandmother’s visit? What wasn’t Ash saying?

  “Sisters like to tell you what to do.” I shrugged. My sisters were prime examples. They would come over to our old place, the apartment I’d shared with Eric and Leo, and tidy up after us, tutting and talking under their breath. It was way better than when Leo’s mom had come over and decided to call in a priest to banish the devil when she’d found a half-empty family size pack of condoms next to her son’s bed.

  We hadn’t needed a priest back at the old place, we’d needed a fumigator and for the other residents to stop being so damn noisy.

  “They do?” Ash was so damn serious, as if my answer might solve an ancient riddle or something.

  “And they over care.”

  He frowned at my words. “I call it interfering.” He blinked. “At least I think I do. What if something happens with Mia when I’m not there, and who the hell needs air?”

  I didn’t answer what was clearly a rhetorical question, “So are you going to stand here and get the air, or do you wan
t to go for a walk?”

  He stared at me, and I could tell he was still on edge and probably just as exhausted as he’d been before. Then he glanced down at me in my running shoes, and his eyes widened.

  “Did you run?”

  “Yes. No. I mean, I walked fast.” I turned from him and took a few steps toward the park. “Come on, let’s go.”

  He didn’t follow, so I circled back behind him and shoved him a little—this dude needed help. I didn’t check out how nice his ass was in his slim-fitting jeans or the way his shoulders were broad. Nope. No staring at all.

  When he finally began to walk in a straight line, I walked next to him and guided him straight to the café on the edge of the park and pulled out a chair, encouraging him to sit.

  “Coffee?”

  He nodded and pulled out his phone, typing away furiously, and when I caught myself thinking how cute he was, I had to check myself. He was tired, stressed, and needed coffee. I could do that for him, and with the twenty I had in my running belt, I bought coffee, with cream and sugar on the side, along with toast and jelly, and a slice of chocolate cake. I could always eat anything he didn’t want. I could lean over and kiss him as well, and I wanted to, but he seemed so serious. He put his phone down and fell on the coffee as if it was heroin and he was a junkie searching for a fix. Maybe I should hold him back and tease him with it…

  Mmmm. Restrained. Restraining Ash, having him all tied up with nowhere to go and all spread out for me. What a good idea…

  I ignored my treacherous libido, even though I couldn’t take my eyes off the way he filled out his T-shirt. He had the body of a runner, tall, slim, strong legs, but he clearly lifted weights or something because he had muscled arms. I could appreciate his form without getting myself involved in sex fantasies.

  Honestly, I could.

  “That’s good,” he near-purred, and the pornographic sound went straight through me, and my body stirred and got itself all wound up. Not great when I was wearing running shorts—thank God they were a size too big for me and loose around the groin.

  “Here,” I said and pushed the plate of toast toward him.

  “Is that for me?” He was adorably confused.

  Not helping.

  “It’s difficult to get time for yourself with a new baby,” I explained and nudged the plate again. He picked up a slice of toast and bit off a corner, closing his eyes as he chewed. “Air is good.”

  “I had Cheerios this morning,” he mumbled as he brushed crumbs from his mouth. “Or was that yesterday? What day is it?”

  “Saturday.”

  “Right, of course, Siobhan is here with the kids.” His eyes widened as he recalled something else. “And Mom.”

  “It will be okay,” I reassured, then sat back in my chair and sipped hot coffee, watching him over the rim of my mug.

  “I know it will. One day it will work out either way, and I’ll settle into being a dad.”

  I leaned in. “A hot, sexy dad, whom I want to kiss right now.”

  “Oh.”

  “That kiss we shared was incendiary.”

  “I know.” The tip of his tongue darted out to dampen his lips, and I really wanted to kiss him now.

  “Can you imagine what we’d be like together?” I dropped my voice so no one else could hear, and he leaned in to me.

  “Uhh…”

  “You were so hard.”

  “I can’t. I want to, but…” He shuffled in his chair, and I could tell the moment that reality forced its way into our moment. “I should be back at the house. Mia might need me.” He stood from the table and held on tight to the back of his chair as he swayed. I didn’t even consider staying and letting him leave alone, even if that slice of cake was appealing. He seemed even more tired than he had been at the cookout, and I wondered how much sleep he was getting since the temperature scare. I scooped the cake into a napkin, and together we headed home as I picked off bits of chocolate and walked at the same time.

  He quickened his stride as we exited the park. “I need to go in there and ask my mom why she’s here.” His stride became a jog, and I nearly lost the remainder of the cake as I kept up with him. “Sorry, I have to go,” he said and darted down his drive and across the front lawn, fumbling with a key and bursting into his house.

  What I wouldn’t have given to be a fly on the wall right now. I wondered why he was worked up over his mom, and imagined any time where my parents and I would be on the outs. I couldn’t think of one.

  Cake finished, I ambled along the path to my house and let myself in. Cap was at the station with Eric, who often took him in to be the firehouse dog. Leo was on shift until morning. It was just me on my own until I had to report for work at ten p.m., aka nightshift hell. So I only had myself to please, and I thought a swim was in order. The pool, a complicated design of interlocking circles along with a Jacuzzi and a longer part where I could actually swim short lengths, was the sole reason the three of us had bought this place. It was perfect, and given we all loved swimming, plus this being balmy San Diego meant that it would get a lot of use this summer, I was sure. Slathered in waterproof sunscreen, I headed outside in my swimming trunks, sunglasses on, and a new thriller on my Kindle. I had five hours to kill. I was full of cake. I carried a beer with me. I was set to go.

  This is the life.

  Asher

  The door slammed back on the wall, but I caught it before it rebounded and smacked me in the face. There was no sign of Siobhan on the stairs, and I ran up them two at a time to my room, heard a sound from my bedroom and followed it to the source. By now I’d worked up a head of self-righteous steam.

  Mom was crying.

  I stopped in the doorway, my eyes going straight to Mia, who was fast asleep in her crib, and there was that awful second where I thought something was wrong. But Mia was breathing, snuffling a little in her sleep, and Mom was still crying.

  Not huge heavy sobs, but silent tears, staring down at her hands, her fingers laced together. My anger fled in an instant, and my heart ached. There had been too many times I’d seen her in tears. When we’d lost Dad, Siobhan and I had only been ten, and I’d seen my mom cry so much over him. She’d loved him, but I don’t remember loving him at all. Then there had been more tears when Siobhan had fallen pregnant with Evan, more at her wedding, and then when Debs arrived. She’d cried when I told her I was gay, but for that, she’d railed at God for letting me make unwise choices. I should be hardened to the tears, but I wasn’t.

  “Mom? What are you doing up here?” I stepped into the room, and she looked up, startled, dashing away tears. Had she not heard me come into the room?

  “Siobhan said—”

  “Well, Siobhan shouldn’t have—”

  “Please, Ash.”

  I crossed to the crib and stroked Mia’s soft hair, subtly moving so I was between Mom and her.

  “You should let her sleep,” Mom said, then bit her lip as if she regretted saying a thing.

  I sighed, but it wasn’t the sound of a man who was put upon or desperate to avoid his mom. I unconditional love a son has for his mother had ended the day I’d approached her cautiously to explain I was gay. That was the moment she’d announced it was wrong.

  That I was wrong.

  We didn’t talk much after that, and soon enough I’d left home for college. I didn’t go back home on any vacation time, working on my off days, hooking up with guys, but most of all being honest with myself in all things. Mom had tried to contact me, but the few times we talked had ended up with me having to justify why I was gay. She refused to believe me in all things to do with sexuality.

  Moving out young had been on her list of things her misguided son would do, and she’d said to my face that she expected me to end up stripping to make money, or worse. In her opinion, the East coast where I was going for college was a dangerous place for people like me, and when she’d fallen back on using evidence from Scripture to back up her decisions, I would always walk out.
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br />   Don’t date girls, don’t date boys, don’t date anyone, study hard, don’t jump from the tall tree in the garden, don’t eat and then swim, don’t make big life choices without running them past the entire family. Don’t be gay. I was used to my mom having an opinion on everything.

  “Can we talk?” she asked.

  “You might as well come out and say what you want to say, Mom. Then you can leave.”

  She started to cry again, and I was confused. I’d expected an argument, temper, pleading, anything but the silent tears. Maybe I should leave the room, let Mom have her meltdown all to herself.

  But what if Mia wakes up and sees a crying grandmother, albeit one with a blurry face. What psychological damage could that do to her? Wait. I’m overthinking this. I sat next to Mom on the bed and tried to shake the negative feelings from me.

  “Why are you here?”

  She reached blindly for my hand and gripped it.

  “This is all my fault. Do you remember the day you came home from school and told me you liked boys?”

  “I do.”

  “It was a Friday, the third of May, two days after my birthday, and we were going out for dinner that night to celebrate. It was raining, and there was lightning. Do you remember?”

  Of course I did. Not the weather or the fact that we’d been going out for my mom’s birthday. I did recall running home from school, convinced that I needed to talk to someone about the way I felt, about the epiphany I’d had in my math class, sitting behind Mikey Westman. I was gay, and I’d run straight to my mom, to the one woman who would tell me how things were and what I needed to do.

  “I said, I remember.”

  “You told me that you wanted to kiss Mikey Westman and that you were gay.”

  “You don’t need to summarize the entire messed up conversation.”

  I’d wanted her to tell me that she had my back, and that she loved me, and that it didn’t matter. What I didn’t want was a lecture about God, and Hell, and how me choosing to be gay was probably just a phase.