Profited (Bound Together #2)

by Lacey Black

  After several minutes in which I think he’s not going to answer my question, Dad finally looks me in the eye. “A few months ago, I signed up for one of those dating sites on the Internet thingy.”

  I’m stunned speechless. As far back as I can remember Dad has never had a date. Not since Mom left us. He was so focused on raising his two young daughters, that having a social life outside of work and whatever activity Trysta and I were involved in didn’t seem to matter to him.

  Maybe that’s why he’s considering something now. He’s been alone for almost twenty years, a single dad with tons of baggage. Part of me always thought he was holding himself back as if waiting for Mom to return. The other part, the selfish one, hoped that he just didn’t want to take his time and devotion away from my sister and me. But now, he’s older. At fifty-four, Dad spends all of his free time alone or with his seven-year-old grandson. Now, maybe it’s time for my dad to actually live his life the way he was meant to.

  “You’ve been dating?” I ask, surprised, yet completely happy for him.

  “Oh, I’ve talked with a few ladies. Exchanged emails and stuff. One woman I’ve met a few times for drinks after work,” Dad says, blushing a dark shade of pink. I’m sure a father talking about dating with his daughter isn’t something any dad would be comfortable with. “She’s real nice. Her first grandchild was born a few weeks ago.” Dad smiles. Smiles. It’s one of the first I’ve seen on his face that wasn’t put there by one of his daughters or grandson in a very long time.

  “I’m happy for you,” I tell him honestly as I reach over and place my hand on top of his.

  “Thank you, Dani. It’s been so long since I’ve done this whole dating thing, I’m not sure if I’m doing it right,” he says with a chuckle.

  “They say it’s like riding a bike,” I add humorously.

  Dad laughs. “I’m not sure that’s what they were referring to when they penned that saying. Who would have thought, me at fifty-four and you at twenty-nine talking about dating.”

  “I’m not dating. I was just humoring Tryst to get her off my butt. There’s no way in hell I’ll ever be talked into another blind date again.”

  “Don’t give up, Dani. I don’t want to see you alone for the rest of your life. You’re a wonderful mother to Ryan and a great friend and sister to Trysta. You have so much love and laughter in you, I hate to see you not sharing that piece of your heart with someone.”

  “I have Ryan. And my class. That’s enough to keep me happy,” I tell my dad, almost believing the conviction in my own words.

  “Is it, though?”

  I’m saved from having to dive deeper into the conversation that I do not want to have with Dad. Is it enough? I always thought it would be, but the older I get, I start to wonder. I wonder if I’m messing up by not dating more, trying to find a good, solid father figure for Ryan. And as much as I hate to admit it, I do envy those colleagues of mine who boast about their spouse, their families, their full lives. But for me, it just isn’t in the cards. I don’t want just any father for Ryan. I want the right father for him. And I have no idea how to find that.

  “Ryan’s home,” my sister mumbles as she walks around the corner. Even after a night of working and sleep deprived, my sister still looks runway ready.

  “Good morning, sweetheart,” Dad says to my older sister as she places a kiss on his forehead.

  “Morning, Daddy,” she replies while filling her coffee cup to the brim.

  “How was work?” I ask.

  “Busy. I think we had about two-dozen bachelor parties floating around the casino throughout the night. Two of them were granted access to the High Roller Room, but big tippers, they were not,” Trysta says with a big yawn.

  “Sorry to hear that,” I say to my sister.

  “There was this guy, though. Gorgeous in that dark, boastful way. He was there with a friend and they played blackjack most of the night. At one time, I think I heard he was up thirty-G’s. Excellent tipper, too,” she adds with a perfect smile.

  “Did you get his number?” I ask curiously. Trysta always finds a way to snag the attention of wealthy, powerful men who are in Sin City for a few nights of gambling and debauchery.

  “I don’t think I want to hear this,” Dad mumbles before taking a gulp of his coffee.

  “Actually, no, I didn’t. He seemed very distracted.” Trysta always has stories about the people she encounters in the casino. Some are married and looking for a little extra fun on the side, which Trysta always says doesn’t interest her. When our mother left us high and dry, it was for the father of one of Trysta’s best friends in elementary school. They took off to God knows where; him leaving behind a pretty wife and four kids ranging from twelve to two years old. We were the talk of the small town for a long time before Dad finally moved us to Texas to get away from the relentless gossip. A fresh start is just what we needed to try to alleviate some of the pain and anger associated with being abandoned.

  “Too bad,” I tell her with a smile.

  After we share a cup of coffee, Dad says goodbye to Ryan before taking off. I’m sure he’s heading home for a nap. Dad loves spending time with Ryan and has him stay over regularly, but the seven-year-old is still a handful. He’s not a video game kid. He prefers playing outside, riding his bike, swimming, or kicking the soccer ball around in the backyard.

  “So, what’re your plans for today?” Trysta asks through her yawn.

  “I have a few more sets of papers to grade, and then I thought we’d swim. You?” I ask my sister as I place mine and Dad’s empty coffee cups in the dishwasher.

  “I’m going to sleep for a few more hours, and then I’ll join you in the pool.” Trysta snags another sip of her coffee before slipping back down the hallway and heading towards the staircase that leads to the second floor bedroom.

  When Dad’s job relocated him to Vegas five years ago, Trysta and I decided we’d make the move with him. We had nothing but a handful of part-time friends in Phoenix, so the decision to move wasn’t a difficult one. All of the friends I had in college eventually stopped calling when I had Ryan. They were all seniors in college, ready to start the rest of their lives in their chosen field of study. I was pregnant and struggling to finish my degree before my baby was born.

  Dad and Trysta helped me tremendously those first two years. They did everything they could to help take care of Ryan so I could utilize my college education and teach. My first job was second grade, and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t exhausting. Between raising an infant and chasing seven year olds all day long, some nights I swore I’d fall into bed and not wake up for days. But, of course, Ryan needed me. My lack of sleep was pushed to the back burner while I tended to my infant son.

  Living in Vegas is better than I thought it would be. I was afraid that the lights and nightlife and the crazy lifestyle would be too much to handle. Turns out not all of Vegas is “The Strip.” Much of it consists of modest homes with normal, white-collar people.

  Finding our little bungalow was sheer luck. Our first week in Vegas, Dad took a wrong turn, winding us into a cul-de-sac with cheerful, family-friendly homes. While turning around, this cute, yellow house caught my eye. What drew my attention more than the white shutters on the windows was the For Sale sign in the front yard. I made Dad stop while I wrote down the number of the realtor on the sign. An hour later, I was scheduling an appointment with some woman named Sherry to tour the house the next day.

  Dad had to work so Trysta went with me. She seemed just as excited as I was as we walked around the fifteen hundred square foot home. Two decent sized bedrooms downstairs and one upstairs in a large, loft-style space. From room to room, I took in every nook and architectural charm that this house possessed. I was in love. I had to have it.

  I didn’t need anyone to co-sign the mortgage loan. I have excellent credit and pride myself on making sure I pay off any debt I incur right away. I knew the payment would be tight under my teaching salary, but I was determi
ned. I would eat Ramen noodles every night if I had to, as long as Ryan had everything he needed and I had this house.

  Trysta presented me with an offer I couldn’t refuse right after the ink was signed on the papers. Taking the loft room upstairs, suddenly I had a roommate. Plus, she was willing to help with Ryan, and that alone was way more than I could have ever asked for. When she landed her job at the Mirage casino, it was practically written in the stars. She worked nights, slept during the day while I was at work, and watched Ryan in the afternoon after school. We were a match made in heaven.

  “Mom, are you ready to go swimming?” Ryan asks from the kitchen entryway. He’s already wearing his Batman swim trunks, brown hair tussled from changing his clothes.

  “I’m grading the last paper now. Give me five minutes and then I’ll run and change into my suit,” I tell my son.

  Like many houses in the Nevada desert, this house came with a pool. I was terrified at first to have a pool with a toddler, but after speaking with a colleague, whose husband is a general contractor, I paid to have a fence installed around the in-ground pool. It helps me sleep at night knowing that Ryan can’t slip out the back and fall into the water, unknown.

  After my last paper is graded and the lot stuffed back inside my satchel bag that I use for work, I quietly sneak into my bedroom to change. The black and hot pink polka dot bikini is my favorite. It accentuates all of my curves without making me look like I’m trying too hard. My body definitely changed after birthing my son, but when I wear this suit, it gives me the confidence boost that I desperately need, even if I’m the only one to see and appreciate it.

  “Mom, I’m ready,” Ryan hollers from his position by the back door. Armed with a couple of dry beach towels and grabbing the bottle of SPF 50 sunscreen off the counter by the back door, I follow my son into the bright desert sun. Not a bad day for mid-May.

  Reaching around the backside of the gate, I fumble until I release the latch. When I installed the fence, the first thing I had the contractor do was add the latching mechanism to the backside. It was one of the only ways I could safeguard my son against the water on the other side. You have to be able to reach around and release the latch. Little hands are unable accomplish the task.

  Placing my towel on the chaise lounge already reclined from previous use, I lather up my son in sunscreen. As soon as I give him the signal, he takes off towards the water’s edge. He’s been swimming like a fish for years. The first thing I did after we moved to Vegas was sign us up for swimming lessons at the YMCA. Those lessons helped ease my mind where the pool was concerned.

  “Mom, watch!” Ryan exclaims before taking a running leap off the concrete and into the crystal blue waters of the swimming pool. I head over and grab the inner tubes and other pool paraphernalia from the bin and toss them in.

  “Great jump, honey,” I respond after making sure Ryan is set.

  Reclining in the lounge, I finally feel myself starting to relax after last night’s fiasco. Why would any sane person subject themselves to more blind dates after a night like that? For the life of me, I don’t understand it. The only way I’m dating from here on out is if I know the person. Which in itself could be a challenge because most men I know are married or gay. There are only a couple of single men at school, but there’s no way that’s happening. One, I don’t date where I work. And two, there’s a reason they’re still single.

  After an hour of swimming, I make Ryan get out of the pool for a drink, snack, and to reapply sunscreen. Wrapped in a towel, he takes a seat at the patio table, under the umbrella. “Mom, Chase says that his dad is coaching our soccer team this summer,” Ryan says as he devours a cheese stick.

  My gut tightens at the mention of Chase’s dad. Ryan seems to bring up his little friend’s father whenever possible. Whether it’s just curiosity or something else, I’m not sure, but Ryan always seems to find a way to mention his friend’s father. It’s moments like this that I’m saddened that Ryan won’t know his biological dad. I don’t know if he’ll ever have a father. Someday, maybe, but I’m not in any rush to fill that paternal void. Between Trysta, my dad, and myself we’re making sure Ryan has everything he needs.

  Except the one thing he probably needs most in this world.

  “That’s great that Chase’s dad volunteered. I’m sure you’ll have fun,” I tell my son as I take a big pull from a bottle of cool water. Ryan chugs greedily at his own bottle before turning back to me.

  “He says his dad helps him do lots of stuff,” Ryan adds with a shoulder shrug.

  I can tell he’s leading up to something, something that he’s afraid to come out and ask or say. I’ve always insisted on keeping the lines of communication open between us; after all, we only have each other. “Go ahead and say it,” I encourage as I take a seat across from him.

  “Why does Chase get a cool dad and I don’t?” he asks, his face marred with question and hurt.

  “Honey, I know this is hard to understand. Your daddy had to go away for his work. He has a really important job where people need him and rely on him. Sometimes mommies and daddies can’t be together, as much as we wish for it to happen. Sometimes, they’re needed elsewhere in the world. As much as he wants to be with us, he can’t right now.” I choke on the words. I have no clue if Reid would want to be a part of Ryan’s life–if he knew about him, of course.

  “Like a superhero, right?” he asks, searching for my reassurance.

  “Yeah, kinda like a superhero.”

  “I bet he’s Batman. Batman’s my favorite superhero.” The smile he gives me melts my heart and causes fresh tears to well up in my eyes.

  “Batman is pretty cool,” I tell him, giving him a smile in return.

  Even through his toothless smile, Ryan’s eyes fill with unshed tears. As hard as he tries to understand, he’s only a seven-year-old boy. A boy who just wants the love and support of his father. These are the moments where I truly question every decision I’ve ever made that has led to this moment. Maybe I need to suck it up and go on as many blind dates as it takes until I find the right one; the right man who is not only a loving husband, but also a devoted father. A man who will love my son as if he were his own flesh and blood.

  “Can I get back in the pool yet?” Ryan asks with big, hopeful gray eyes; one of the many constant reminders of the man I’d never be able to forget. How can a mother bear a child, and that child barely resemble her at all?

  After giving him a head nod, Ryan takes off back to the clear blue water. Sitting on the chaise and watching Ryan swim, the back door finally opens and my sister emerges wearing her skimpy little hot pink bikini. While mine is flattering for my curves, it helps mask my body’s imperfections, mainly the ones which resulted from my pregnancy. Twelve hours of labor followed by an emergency c-section left my body a little battered. But even with those physical changes, I wouldn’t trade any of it.

  With a big yawn, she flops down on the twin lounge next to the one I’ve been occupying for the afternoon. “How’s it going?” she asks.

  “Good. The water’s perfect,” I tell her.

  “I’ll jump in for a minute,” she mumbles as she gets up from the lounge. With a few confident steps, she dives into the pool, splashing Ryan and earning a big laugh from him.

  After a few minutes of playing with her nephew, my sister returns to her chair, water glistening from her beautiful, flawless body.

  “Did you know about Dad?” I finally ask when I know Ryan isn’t paying attention.

  “What? Is he okay?” she asks with concern filled eyes.

  “He’s fine. Apparently, he signed up on dating websites.” The shock on Trysta’s face is almost comical. I can’t stop the laugh that erupts from my chest as I say, “I had the same reaction. He seems happy, though, and that’s the important thing. He seems, I don’t know, excited about the idea of spending time with a woman.”

  “Wow. I mean, I’m so happy for him, I just wasn’t expecting that.”

  “
Me neither. Apparently, there’s this one woman he has been speaking with; even met her a couple of times for drinks.”

  “Good for him. He’s been alone for too long, Dani.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to convince me of anything. I want him to be happy more than anything. When Mom took off, it changed him. Well, all of us. It’s like he put his life on hold so that he could raise us. Now, it is time for him to live his life,” I say as I watch Ryan get out of the pool and jump back in.

  “I couldn’t agree with you more. Maybe I’ll call him later and tell him that,” Trysta says between drinks of ice water.

  “Wouldn’t hurt for him to know that we’re both on his side.” After a few minutes of being lost in our own thoughts, I turn back to my sister. “So, tell me how things are going with you. Anyone new you’re seeing?” I’ve always lived vicariously through my sister. She dates casually and flirts shamelessly. I’ve always envied her a little at her ability to live, let loose, and have fun. I’m a little more uptight and by the book. Even before I had Ryan, I was always the serious sister of the two of us.

  “No, not really. That guy last night really peaked my interest, but he seemed so distracted and closed off. His name was Hunter and he was the epitome of tall, dark, and devastatingly hot. I didn’t see a ring on his finger, but he still gave off those ‘Back Off’ vibes. That didn’t stop me from fantasizing about him though,” she says with a coy smile.

  “What about his friend?”

  “Oh, he was a shameless flirt and almost as handsome. Asked for my number no less than a dozen times. Said I was breaking his heart,” she says with a laugh.

  “And?”

  “And I gave him my number,” she says. Even though she’s wearing sunglasses, I can tell she offers me a wink.

  Hot guys flock to Trysta like ants to a picnic. I’ve never felt wild and reckless like she does so often in life. No, I take that back: I’ve felt that once.

  Reid.

  That night, I was alive. I was free. I was irresponsible and wild. The irony of that one night is that my irresponsibility led to the most responsible thing I’ve ever had to do.