by Rye Hart
“It was nice meeting you!” I shouted to her as she briskly walked away, but received no response. Oh well.
“She doesn't like kids, does she?” Zoey asked me, smart and intuitive beyond her years.
“Oh, I don't know,” I said. “Maybe she's just shy around new people.”
I was lying through my teeth. The look she had given Zoey was clear; she was not fond of children. Why date a man with two kids if you didn't like them then?
“Well, I didn't like her,” Zoey said, sitting down on the sofa facing the television.
“Me neither,” Zack piped in.
Poor Marcus. Even if he did decide he liked Stacey, his kids were going to veto the girl, which, knowing him, meant he'd veto the girl. And I couldn't say that I blamed them, not one little bit.
CHAPTER FIVE
MARCUS
Stacey was beautiful and, according to her dating profile, we had a lot in common. She worked in the financial industry, as did I. She listened to the same kinds of music I did, we liked the same movies and books. On paper, we were a perfect match. But when we met in person, there was nothing between us. No spark, no connection, no nothing.
No, I didn't expect love at first sight, but I expected something. If we had so much in common, like our dating profiles suggested, we should have had lots to talk about.
But talking didn't come naturally, for either of us. There were a lot of long, awkward silences and pauses in the conversation. It was strained.
“So, you played football in college?” she asked over dinner.
“I did,” I responded. “UCLA.”
“Really? I went to UCLA.” she said.
Yet another thing we had in common.
“Oh yeah?” I asked. “What did you major in?”
“Business,” she said. “Obviously. You?”
“After changing my major a few times, the same,” I said. “What year did you graduate?”
She'd gone to school a few years after I'd graduated, so we were probably never on campus at the same time. Still, it was kind of neat that we were both Bruins. But that's where that line of conversation ended.
I saw how she'd responded to Zoey earlier, even though she'd tried to hide it. I wanted to bring it up, to ask her about her comfort level around kids since that was pretty damn important if she wanted to date me. My kids were my world and I wouldn't sacrifice their comfort or happiness for anybody. I hoped that maybe she was just nervous or shy around kids. I couldn't blame her for that. If it was just a matter of her getting comfortable on her own terms, that was something I could work with.
“Do you have any kids?” I asked knowing full well that her online profile hadn't mentioned any.
“Oh, no,” she said with a laugh and wide eyes. “No, no way. No kids.”
That response drew a raised eyebrow from me as the red flags in my head started waving.
“I mean, I like kids just fine,” she said quickly. “Other people's kids. I just never wanted to have any of my own. Never met the right guy either, but I've been too focused on my career, honestly kids were the last thing on my mind.”
“I see,” I said. “Well, I obviously have two.”
She was quiet and stared down at her hands. This was going to be a problem, I could tell.
“So, you were married before?”
“Yes, I was,” I said, stiffening up. I hated telling my story to new people, especially dates.
“Divorced then, I take it?”
“Uhh no, actually, she died about four years ago.”
Stacey's eyes grew wide. “I'm so sorry, Marcus. I didn't mean to – ”
“It's fine,” I said.
Though in all honesty, it was far from fine. I never stopped loving my wife, and yes, every single date felt like I was cheating on her somehow. It was an issue I was going to have to work through with Dr. Miller, but that would come in time. But I was smart enough to know that mentioning that little fun fact about myself wouldn't go over too well. It was my ‘get out of jail free’ card.
“How did she – I mean, if you don't mind me asking?”
“Car accident,” I said, my jaw clenching. “She was hit by a drunk driver. The kids weren't with her, thankfully. Zack was only a baby, Zoey was a toddler. She was out with friends, a much needed girl's night out, and well – ”
I trailed off. I could tell it made Stacey uncomfortable to hear about my dead wife. Anger, dark and abiding started to bubble up inside of me. If she didn't want to hear about it, she damn well shouldn't have asked in the first place. The awkward silence that had enveloped us earlier returned, and we ate our dinner quickly, avoiding one another's eyes.
I knew this wasn't going to work out, but I also felt bad backing out and making her go to the concert alone. As we walked to her car, she stopped and turned to me, an awkward look on her face.
“Listen, Marcus, you seem like a great guy – ”
“But it's not going to work out,” I finished for her with a smile. “I was actually thinking the same thing.”
“So, if you want to – I dunno, go home to your kids? I can probably get one of my friends to go to the concert with me,” she said. “It's no big deal.”
I got myself dumped before the date officially got started. That was a new one. But I couldn't deny that I was relieved.
“Yeah, that works. I'll just call an Uber,” I said.
“You sure? I could drive you home?”
“Nah, you go ahead,” I said. “I wouldn't want you to be late for the concert.”
She left me there, in the parking lot of the restaurant, and I called an Uber to come pick me up. Talk about a terrible first date, but hell, at least I didn't waste my time with her.
ooo000ooo
The television was on when I stepped inside, and Emma, who was sitting on the couch, nearly jumped out of her skin.
“Jesus! You scared me!” she said with a laugh.
She was already in pajamas – a spaghetti strap tank top and boy shorts. It was hard not to notice how fit she'd gotten in the last few years. She had curves in all the right places and her tank top really accentuated her breasts. Her legs were smooth and muscular, yet lean . And yes, I was staring.
“I'm sorry, I should have called first,” I said.
Emma looked at the clock, then at me. “That was either the shortest concert in the history of concerts or you don't trust me with your babies anymore. Which is it?”
“Neither,” I said with a laugh as I took a seat across from her. She stretched those lean legs out on the couch and pushed her bust out as she stretched – not openly gawking was incredibly difficult. “We knew it wasn't going to work out pretty quickly and decided to just part ways. No need to spend the next few hours together if we hated every minute of it, right?”
“That bad?” she said, crunching up her face as she said it. Damn, she was cute.
“Yeah, it was bad,” I said and chuckled.
“I'm sorry,” she said. “To be honest, I didn't like her from the get go. Neither did your kids. I think you made the right choice.”
“Yeah, me too,” I said.
“The right woman is out there for you, Mr. Pratt,” she said reassuringly. “You'll find her, and when you do, all these misadventures will be hilarious stories for you to tell.”
I didn't ask her the question that was rattling around in my head, the question that had been rattling around in my head for the last five years. What if I'd already found my soul mate, the one woman I was meant to be with, and now she was dead? Instead, I teased her.
“Wise words for someone your age,” I said. “Sounds like you have years and years of dating experience under your belt to draw from.”
“Or maybe I'm just wise beyond my years?” she said, smiling. “That's what my dad says at least. I honestly haven't dated too many guys. They're all just obnoxious and immature.”
I laughed. The thought of someone as beautiful as Emma not dating, was funny. She could have her pick of men,
and now that she was in her early twenties, she didn't have to stay home all the time or follow her parent's rules like she did before. She could do what she wanted and no doubt, had a line of guys salivating at the chance to date her.
But I could see what her father meant about her. She actually was wise beyond her years.
“I would like to say that the older you get, the less obnoxious they get, but that would be a lie,” I said.
“See? Even you admit your gender kinda sucks,” she said. “I'm pretty sure I'm going to be alone forever.”
“I doubt that,” I said.
Her blue eyes sparkled as she smiled at me. She was a beautiful woman. Sometimes I still thought of her as a child, but she was very much a woman now. I had a hard time taking my eyes off of her, and was somewhat ashamed and embarrassed that I couldn't. She was the daughter of my good friend – a girl I'd watched grow up and blossom into the knockout woman sitting before me.
“Me, on the other hand?” I said, clearing my throat. “Yeah, I'm pretty sure I'm going to grow old and alone with only my kids to take care of me.”
“Puh-lease,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You're just too picky. Not that it's a bad thing, but once you're ready to love again, you will find someone and be very happy. I just know it. You're a catch, Mr. Pratt.”
“Marcus,” I said. “Please, call me Marcus. You're an adult now, no need to make me feel like an old man with titles and all that.”
“Marcus,” she said, letting my name roll off her tongue. “Well, Marcus, believe me when I say that you're a catch. You'll find someone worthy of you and your kids.”
She started packing up her things, and as she bent down to put her phone away in her bag, I stared at that tight ass of hers, and then felt ashamed immediately afterward. It had been too long since I'd been with a woman, but that was no excuse to be staring at Emma's ass like a lecherous old man.
“Thanks again, Emma,” I said, getting up to see her to the door.
I paid her as if I'd been gone all evening, even though I'd actually only been gone for a couple hours. She stared down at the money in hand and tried to hand some of it back.
“You gave me too much,” she said. “I wasn't here that long.”
“No, it's fine,” I said. “Consider it a tip for all the advice you've given me tonight.”
I had to admit, I'd enjoyed her company more than Stacey's earlier in the evening. Our conversation had been nice and I found that I was actually sad to see Emma go.
Wow. I really was turning into a creepy old man.
CHAPTER SIX
“It's Saturday, daddy!” Zoey said as she bounded into my room. It wasn't even a six in the morning yet, and there she was, wide awake and ready to go. “Time to go to the beach for our first lesson!”
“Oh honey,” I said with a laugh. “It's way too early. We have an appointment to go later this afternoon, okay?”
She pouted. “How many hours is that?”
“About six,” I said. “Six hours from now, sweetheart.”
“That's too many,” she pouted.
“Well, we need to eat breakfast first,” I said. “And then daddy needs to get a little work done before we go out and play.”
“Could Emma come over and watch us outside while you work at least?”
“I can ask her,” I said. “But no promises, okay? Emma has a life of her own now too.”
Giggling like mad, Zoey dashed back to her room and I crawled out of bed. Six in the morning was sleeping in for me, but I never felt rested, no matter how much sleep I got. I threw on some clothes, ran a hand through my mess of hair, and went downstairs to make breakfast for the kids.
From the moment I stepped into the kitchen, I was treated to the constant barrage of “Is Emma up yet? Can Emma come over now?”
“It's too early, Zoey,” I said. “Normal people sleep in on Saturdays, you know.”
“Are you saying we're not normal?” she asked, hands on her hips, an indignant look on her face.
Zack laughed and I couldn't help but smile at his sister's attitude as I gave them their breakfast; oatmeal with fresh fruit. I still did my best to feed them like Gina would, if she were still alive, which meant, mostly healthy food options. I made sure to put in the effort, even though I had hardly any time to prepare meals most days. I did it because it was what Gina would have wanted. She didn't believe in feeding the kids a lot of junk food or processed garbage, so I did my best. It wasn't always easy and there were nights I opted for pizza or burgers, but I did what I could.
“Eat your breakfast,” I said, ruffling her hair as I sat down to my coffee.
I tried not to laugh, I didn't want to encourage her sassiness, even though it entertained me most of the time. Zoey had a fiery spirit and most definitely kept me on my toes, that was for sure. She was going to be a handful as a teenager, I could see it already, was I dreading it.
Yet as I stared at her, I couldn't help but see a lot of her mother's spirit in her. And God, I knew Gina would be so proud of her. Tears welled up in my eyes as I watched my kids eat their breakfast, cheerful and happy, filling my home with laughter and sunshine. Some days were tougher than others, no question about it, but I wouldn't trade what I had for the world. These two little bundles of energy were my heart, my life.
Sometimes, I wondered why God took Gina instead of me. She was more deserving of sharing moments like these with the kids, more deserving of being with these two beautiful children than I was. She had a certain ease with them. She had been a natural. It should have been Gina there with them, not me.
A little while later, after I'd showered and gotten the kids dressed, I stepped out back and saw that Riley was out in her own backyard.
“Hey Riley,” I said. “Good morning. How are you?”
“I'm good,” she said.
She and a boy I presumed was her boyfriend, were sitting in the backyard by the pool, sharing a lounge chair. She was practically on top of him.
“Umm so, I was wondering if Emma was around?”
“No,” Riley said, her voice flat, as if she didn't want to be bothered. “She's at work.”
As soon as Zoey heard the response, she burst into hysterics. “But I want Emma,” she said, her voice a high-pitched whine and her lower lip jutting out.
“Honey, I told you Emma has a life too,” I said gently. “Remember? I said no promises.”
Riley laughed, and I turned my attention back to her, but I realized she wasn't laughing at my kids, she was laughing at her boyfriend who was nuzzling and kissing her neck. His hands were on her breasts and they were looking a little too cozy with my kids only a few feet away. Even if they couldn't see over the fence, they could hear what was going on, and I was afraid of where things were going with them.
“Come on, Zoey,” I said. “Let me put on a movie.”
“I don't wanna! I want Emma,” she said, but she followed me inside anyway, pouting the entire time.
“We're going to the beach in a few hours,” I said.
I was already fearing the work that would pile up while we were out, but I suppressed my instant urge to cancel in favor of getting work done. I reasoned with myself that it couldn't be helped and I'd have plenty of time to catch up on work later. I needed to do this for the kids; for all of us. Obviously, considering Zoey's mood swings that morning, she needed a break from the monotony of her own life every bit as much as I needed a break from mine.
It was obvious we all needed to get out of the house and do something fun together, even if only for a few hours.
ooo000ooo
Zoey was in better spirits as we drove toward the Huntington Beach pier. She was singing songs, making her brother laugh, and seemed to have already forgotten all about not getting her way and seeing Emma earlier. I looked at them in the rearview mirror and knew this was the right decision. Work could wait, my kids couldn't. And as I parked my car, the smile on her face only reinforced and validated that decision in my own mind.
Ordinarily, I was happy to oblige. But not today. Today was a day for my kids. They deserved to have me present.
Our spirits were high and I managed to forget all about work as we walked toward the beach, relishing the feel of the sand between our toes. It was a lovely day, as usual for Southern California. Nice and warm, mid-eighties with the sun high overhead and very little cloud cover. With a kid holding each hand, we walked toward the lifeguard station where we were told to meet out instructor. We were a little bit early, so I let the kids play in the waves for a while as I watched them from a distance. As I watched them splashing and playing, laughing and giggling with one another, I once again wished that Gina was there to witness it and to share in that special moment.
“Hey, what are you doing here?” a familiar voice called to me from behind.
I turned and saw Emma heading toward us carrying a surfboard and wearing a wetsuit; a skintight wetsuit that showed off all her curves and made me feel like a pervert for staring.
“Uhh well, I signed the kids and I up for surfing lessons,” I said.
“Huh,” Emma said, pulling out a notebook and staring at what was written inside intently for a moment. “It said the name was Bratt. Mark Bratt.”
“Wait, you're our – ”
“Looks like it,” she said. “Family of three. Dad, a daughter, and a little boy. I should have put two-and-two together. Simon is such an idiot, he obviously wrote your name down wrong. I swear, that guy is stoned twenty-four hours a day.”
I stood there, in stunned silence as I realized my friend's daughter, I reminded myself, was going to be teaching us how to surf. Yes, technically I'd signed up to learn alongside my kids, but the thought of Emma teaching me, and likely watching me suck at it, did something to my ego that I didn’t like.