Then There Was You: A Single Parent Collection

by Gianna Gabriela

  “I am, my daughter’s name is Libby.”

  “She’s one of mine,” I tell him quickly. I don’t recall him ever coming to the school before because I would’ve noticed him.

  “She’s a good girl.” Pride shines in his eyes and I notice the resemblance to the pretty girl from my class. He grins, lifting the paintbrush and roller. “I also love a good makeover project.” This time when he looks at me, it feels as if he’s trying to delve into my soul. “Name’s Caleb.” He holds out his hand, and I accept.

  “Kayla.”

  “Nice to meet you, Kayla.” We shake for a moment longer than what I would deem necessary, but I don’t let go until I feel his fingers release my hand.

  “All right everyone, team up,” Principal Lee shouts to the crowd gathered on the sports field. “We’ll be needing teams of two, one to carry the paint, the other to carry the tools. Pair up, and you’ll be assigned a classroom to paint.”

  “Guess we’re already paired up,” Caleb whispers in my ear, causing a tremble to shoot through me, down my spine, and gather low in my stomach.

  “I guess so.” I smile again, and I find myself seemingly at ease with him. I guess if I’m meant to be spending the day with him, I should be nice. I watch him lift the box, which is filled with four cans of paint, and even though that would’ve broken my back to pick up, he does it with ease.

  I can’t help but note how his arms bulge, the veins popping against tanned skin, and the tattoo of his daughter’s name on his forearm making my heart swell. A man with a child is dangerous, so much more stable, so much more tempting, because he’ll understand the limitations of bringing someone new into the home.

  We make our way in silence to room 103. The walls are bare; all the drawings that normally hang here have been taken down.

  “Where do you want to start?” Caleb questions, glancing over at me with those forest eyes.

  “This wall?” I suggest, pointing at the one closest to my left. It’s the back wall, so there’s more of it. The other three are all broken up by either windows or the blackboard and bookshelves.

  “Great. Maybe I’ll draw a mural on the one half,” he speaks, not to me in particular because his gaze is already sizing up the space.

  “You draw?”

  He glances my way, then chuckles. “Yeah, I’m a tattoo artist. I own the store on the main strip,” he offers, lifting his sweatpants, showing me the large inked design on his calf. It’s a beautiful black piece with roses and thorns surrounding a woman’s name.

  “Who is she?”

  “My one daughter,” he utters in a low, melancholic tone.

  “I thought her name was on your arm?”

  “Oh, it is. This is the one I lost four years ago.” He drops his gaze to the floor.

  “My god, I’m so sorry.” This time, I go to him. For some reason, it feels as if there’s a rope tethering me to him, and I’m being tugged closer.

  When I reach him, I place a palm on his shoulder, holding him in the friendliest way I can. I want to hug him, to wrap my arms around him, but I don’t. It’s too personal.

  “She and her mother were in a pile up coming back home from LA, and . . . Shit, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to drop this heavy shit on you.” He shakes his head as if to clear his mind of the memory which is so clearly hurting him.

  “Hey, it’s okay. I lost my husband in Iraq,” I tell him, hoping he won’t feel bad for needing to vent. Sometimes, we all need someone to talk to.

  “This conversation would be best over a cup of coffee,” he tells me. “As friends. I mean, I guess there’s always a need for someone to lend an ear, and I’d like to be yours, if you’ll let me?”

  Green eyes meet mine. They remind me of the new leaves that blossom on the trees in spring, and I’d like to get lost in them more than I want to admit.

  “I . . . Well, I don’t know.” I stutter over the words. Is he flirting? Is he asking me out on a date? I don’t know. This seems surreal, and I’m unsure of how to handle it.

  “That’s fine, I just—”

  “It’s not you, I just . . . I mean, I don’t normally go out.” I cringe the moment the words leave my mouth. “I mean, I have a son, and I need to be there for him. So—”

  “I have a daughter who’s very responsible, and she could babysit?” he questions with a wide grin on his face. His beautiful, handsome face. Stop it, Kayla. He’s not your type.

  Frowning, I nod. “Yeah, I mean, my mother could watch Nicholas as well,” I offer, realizing I’m about to agree to a date. I’m saying yes to a man who is asking me out.

  “So, it’s a date?”

  I stare at him for a long while, waiting for the laugh, the joke, but he’s serious. There’s no amusement on his face.

  “We’ve only just met.”

  “And I’d like to get to know you, Kayla,” he tells me earnestly.

  5

  Caleb

  She blushes.

  There’s a pained beauty about her. I can see how broken her heart is through those stormy eyes. Her full lips are painted a natural pink, with a shimmer that makes her smile even more exquisite.

  I find myself wanting to paint her.

  Her skin is smooth, creamy, and I wonder if the rest of her is blemish free. She’s curvy, her hips wide, her body the perfect hourglass. No woman has intrigued me since Sarah, but Kayla is certainly in the running.

  “We can grab a coffee after this perhaps?” she says, her dark brows arching in question, and I nod eagerly. “Okay.” Her voice is melodic, and I want to hear more of her tinkling words that seem to make my heart feel lighter.

  I watch her for a moment as she pours paint into a tray, then grabs the brush and goes to work on the corner. I shouldn’t be staring, but I can’t stop myself. She’s my daughter’s teacher, off limits, but everything inside me is screaming to move closer and get another whiff of her perfume.

  “So, how long have you been teaching?” I ask as I get to work. The classroom we’re in is small, but there’s a lot of wall to cover. Instead of looking over at her, I focus on the roller as it slides up and down the smooth surface.

  “About three years,” she tells me. “I would’ve started earlier, but . . . Well, life doesn’t always go according to plan.” Her words are pained, as if there’s a reminder of something she doesn’t want to voice. Heartbreak.

  I know all too well about that. I’ve had my fair share of memories I no longer want to revisit. I wish things weren’t so dark and gloomy in my past. Perhaps I would offer her dinner at my place. But I can’t have another woman in that house.

  “What about you?” she asks, dragging me from my thoughts.

  “I own my own studio on Main Road, on the corner opposite—”

  “Silver Macs?” she grins playfully, which makes her eyes light up with excitement. There’s an innocence to her, almost as if she’s too young to be a mom, too young to have pain and heartache in her life. And I find myself enthralled by her.

  “Yeah, you know it.” I smile, dipping the roller in the thick orange paint that’s coloring the wall in small patches.

  “I do,” Kayla tells me as she pushes to her feet, lifting the hem of her tank top, gifting me a glimpse of her belly button piercing.

  Stifling a groan, I raise my brows in shock. “Didn’t peg you for a bad girl,” I offer, winking at her soft laugh.

  “I used to be once upon a time,” she admits.

  “Does that mean I can sway you to get in my chair one day?” I question, hoping she agrees. Her smooth, creamy skin makes every part of me stand at attention, and I can’t imagine how soft and silky it must feel to the touch. And I know I want to find out.

  Kayla drags her gaze over me, taking in the exposed, colored skin, patterns and script scrawled all over me. “I guess I could think about it.”

  “I don’t do butterflies and dolphins though,” I tease as I roll the wall with the bright, sticky latex.

  She crosses her arms in front of h
er chest, pinning me with a shrewd glare. “Do I look like a butterfly kinda girl?”

  Her question has me chuckling. “Hey, I don’t judge.” I hold my hands up, causing the paint to drip all over my black combat boots. “Shit.”

  I’m about to drop down to wipe it when Kayla beats me to it. Seeing her down on her knees before me doesn’t help that taut string of restraint I’m holding onto. It’s been years since I’ve been with anyone, let alone had the company of a beautiful woman, and this isn’t helping.

  “I’m sorry,” she tells me, shooting up, causing my hand to bump against her shoulder, and orange is splattered all over her tank top along with my T-shirt.

  “You’re really that clumsy?” I tease, pressing my index finger to her nose, making the tip match the mess we’re making all over ourselves.

  A giggle falls from her lips, making her eyes crinkle in amusement, and I can’t help joining her. I haven’t laughed like this in such a long while it feels foreign. Grabbing the cloth from her hand, I dab her nose, wiping at the paint until it’s barely noticeable.

  “Do I look like a clown?” she questions, wrinkling her nose.

  I open my mouth to tell her she looks beautiful, but the words get stuck in my throat. I haven’t told any other woman she’s beautiful since Sarah. Even before Sarah, none of my high school girlfriends were special to me. I was the bad boy from the wrong side of the tracks until Sarah walked into my studio in New York and demanded I tattoo her because her father forbade it.

  It was then and there I fell for her.

  “No, not at all,” are the words that fall from my lips. “Far from it.”

  With a swift nod, Kayla turns and gets to work. The next hour passes in silence. There’s a tension that hangs over us, and I wonder if I fucked it up by being standoffish.

  I set the roller down once the bell rings, alerting us it’s lunch time. When I turn to find Kayla looking at me, I smile.

  “Look, I’m not used to—”

  “Women?” She grins. “I get it. I mean . . . I’m not here for something you’re not looking to give. Hell, I’m not even here for a date.”

  “I would like to take you out though,” I tell her. “If you’d let me. Nothing serious,” I amend. “Just friends.”

  Her pretty eyes regard me for a moment. She agreed to coffee, but a date is something more. It’s . . . just more.

  “I have to make sure my mother can babysit,” she finally responds, and I blow out a breath I held in hopes she would agree. I don’t know what it is about her, but I want to try this. If I fuck it up, at least I know I’ve tried.

  “That’s better than the no I was expecting,” I reply, tipping my head toward the door when another blare of the bell goes. We head outside, and the moment we step into the sunshine, her son runs up to her, an ice cream in hand, and I don’t know what to do with myself.

  “Nick, this is Caleb,” she tells him, gesturing toward me. “He’s helping us paint the classrooms.”

  When I glance at the little boy, I note how much of his mother’s features he’s inherited. Those wide eyes, pouty lips, and his smile is all her.

  “Hey, little man.” I smile, crouching down.

  “Hi.” He offers a grin that makes me chuckle. He’s got two small gaps where he’s lost his teeth, and I can’t help but recall my girls at the same age.

  “You enjoying that ice cream?” I ask, and he nods. “Good man. You know, ice cream is good for building strong bones.”

  “Don’t tell him that,” Kayla hisses playfully. “He’ll be telling me why he should have ice cream for dinner every night.”

  An easy laugh falls between us, and I once more find myself wanting to spend more time with Kayla. Far too much time.

  “Let’s start with lunch,” I tell her, and we head to the table with snacks, hot dogs, and soda. I glance at the pretty woman who’s captured my attention, and I realize I don’t know what I’m doing, but I guess we all have to learn somehow.

  6

  Kayla

  “A tailgate?” I smile at Caleb who looks far too excited by the prospect of sitting on the back of his truck tonight. The sky is clear with stars pricking to life on the inky background. The moon hangs high, a sliver over silver which illuminates the area around us.

  The park has been a place where everyone would park, listen to music, have a few beers, and spend the evening having fun with their friends. It’s been so long since I’ve been out it feels foreign to be out here. I can’t believe I’ve never done this before and feel slightly excited to sit here and learn more about the man who makes my stomach flutter wildly.

  Years have passed, too many of them, that I haven’t experienced the sweaty palms and giggly excitement that trickles through you at the prospect of a first date. But right now, it’s there, burning in my veins, turning my blood hot, and my cheeks heat. I close my eyes for a silent moment and pray this feeling lasts.

  “I figured we could go back to our teen years?” Caleb winks while handing me a beer. He clicks the stereo on, and soon Brantley Gilbert’s “Bottoms Up” comes filtering through the speakers.

  “And a soundtrack as well?” I question, swigging the beer from the bottle as I settle back. Thankfully, I changed into my denim cutoffs and Chucks before we headed out. I wouldn’t have been comfortable wearing the dress I almost put on.

  Caleb’s gaze locks on me for a moment, trailing from my long, dark hair down to my navy-blue tank top over my shorts to my shoes. When he meets my eyes again, he’s grinning like a teenager who just got a date with the most popular cheerleader. For me though, I feel like I’m out of my depth on a date with the quarterback and I’m the class nerd.

  “So, tell me about Kayla,” he requests with a curious smile. “Not the mom. I want to know the girl, the woman behind the label ‘mom’.” My heart does silly flips when he grins. His cheeks dip in with deep dimples, and I’m struck by how handsome he really is.

  “Well,” I start. “I was the cheerleader in high school. I went to college to study teaching, got married really young, and then I became a mom before I was ready. Even though I feel that way, I wouldn’t change my journey. Nicholas, my son, has become my world since his father died. Jeremy was my first everything,” I tell him, my voice lingering with sadness, and I know I shouldn’t be admitting all this, but it’s best to get it out in the open rather than hiding anything.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. This to me” — I wave my hand between us — “is so new to me. I mean, Jeremy’s death is something I’ve had to come to terms with. He was set on joining the army, and I allowed him to go.”

  “You couldn’t have stopped him,” Caleb says, and I know it’s true. He watches me with genuine concern, and I find it endearing in a way I haven’t noticed another man look at me before.

  There’s no way I could’ve changed Jeremy’s mind. But deep down, I still wish he’d chosen his family rather than a life in the army.

  “What else?” Caleb questions slowly, as if he’s unsure I’d like to offer up more of my life, but the worst is over. Talking about my husband’s death is something I avoid, but it’s easy with Caleb.

  “I was the quiet cheerleader in the back of the team. I wasn’t into parties like the others,” I tell him with another shrug, thinking back to high school. “I loved my books. Quiet nights in. I guess I was actually a nerd who got lucky being on the cheer team.”

  “Lucky?” he questions, arching a brow in shock, and I realize it wasn’t luck. It was more because of my looks that I got chosen for cheer team.

  “Well, I mean, the girls were nice to me.”

  “They were probably nice to you because you were the most beautiful one there,” Caleb utters nonchalantly, as if he didn’t just call me beautiful, and I can’t help but lower my gaze in embarrassment. No other man has said that to me besides Jeremy, and it feels nice just enjoying the happiness that flutters in my chest. But it’s a foreign excitement that makes my stomach flip-f
lop and the butterflies come alive when his gaze meets mine. “I’m sorry.”

  “No, it’s okay, I just . . .”

  “I haven’t said that to another woman in a long while.” This time, those eyes fill with the pain I’m certain he’s experienced. Even with the heartbreak so clear in his expression, he’s rather beautiful, his eyes shimmering in the low lights. The music, the other people surrounding us all fade away, and it’s only him and me right in that moment. I have no way of knowing what to do now.

  “I haven’t heard those words in a long while, so you’re okay,” I assure him. Leaning forward, I place a hand on his forearm, and it doesn’t go unnoticed when our skin comes into contact there’s a surge of electricity that shoots through us.

  I know he feels it.

  I do.

  “So, what about you, Caleb?”

  He turns away, looking out at the dimly lit park where a group of people are partying not too far away. “I’m a single dad to a far-too-old-for-her-age teenager. I fell in love young. I gave her a ring and figured we’d be together until our final breaths.” He seems so calm, but he doesn’t meet my gaze when he tells me their story. His story. “I loved her, but her final breath was taken when some asshole drove into her. A trucker who was tired jackknifed the vehicle, and she and our eldest daughter were in the car.”

  My heart aches. It cracks the moment he confesses his story, and all I want to do is hold him, but I don’t move. I wait for him to look at me again. It feels as if he’ll never turn my way, but moments later, he does.

  “I didn’t mean to—”

  “No, I asked. Please don’t apologize or anything. It seems we’ve both been through . . . I mean, there’s been too much loss in our lives.”

  He nods solemnly, and I feel terrible for asking him for his story. I guess if I knew how bad it was, I would’ve still wanted to know. I hate secrets, and that would’ve been a big one.

  “If . . . I mean . . . I’m not expecting . . .”