Southern Heartbreaker: A Single Dad Romance

by Jessica Peterson

  “I’m so happy for you, E.” I hook my finger in the front of her shirt. “If you’re not feeling up to it—”

  “I’m feeling up to it,” she says, arching her back slightly so my finger meets with the curve of her breast.

  My dick leaps. The oven dings, ready for the pizzas to go in.

  “Wanna watch some porn?”

  “Do you even need to ask?”

  “Perfect. Figure we can watch that, do our thing, then maybe put on The Office if we’re still awake. In the meantime, I’ll put in the pizzas—according to the box, they only take fifteen minutes. You go get cozy on the couch. My laptop should be in there.”

  Eva grins, straightening. “On it.”

  We both look up at a muffled wail. My phone is lit up on the counter with a black and white image of Bryce sitting up in her bed, a big old frown on her face.

  “Shit,” I say. “Mind putting in the pizzas? I’ll be right back—”

  “No.” Eva shakes her head as she sips her drink, putting a hand on my shoulder. “You stay here. Enjoy your drink. I got this.”

  My heart swells. “You sure?”

  “I’m sure,” she replies. “I have some more apologizing to do.”

  A few beats later, her voice sounds over the monitor.

  “Hi sweetheart! Oh my goodness, look at you—oh, you poor thing, come here, I think we both need a hug right now.”

  Can’t help it. I grab my phone and watch as Eva takes my daughter into her arms, rocking her side to side. She presses a kiss to the crown of her head.

  “Miss Evaaaa,” Bryce is wailing, clinging to Eva like her life depends on it. “I missssed yooouuu.”

  “Aw, I missed you too. So very much, Bryce. I’m sorry I couldn’t be here. Truly, deeply sorry, sweetheart. I never want to be away from you like that again, all right?”

  Bryce’s wailing stalls, then stops. “All right.”

  “Life wasn’t the same without our pizza nights, was it?”

  My daughter wipes her nose on Eva’s shoulder, probably leaving a nice, thick trail of snot there. I wince. Eva grins.

  “No,” Bryce agrees. “Can we do it tomorrow?”

  “I would love that. You know what else we can do?”

  “What?”

  “Whatever you want. We’ll make tomorrow a special Bryce day.”

  Bryce’s eyes go wide. “Yes!”

  “I knew you’d like that idea.”

  “Miss Eva, I love it.”

  My heart just about melts.

  “But you have to get a good night’s sleep so you have enough energy for all the fun we’re going to have together.”

  Bryce nods again. “Okay. But first will you read me a book?”

  “Of course,” Eva says, laughing as she turns on the light beside Bryce’s bed.

  I find myself laughing, too. My daughter is ever the negotiator.

  I pop the pizzas into the oven and listen to Eva reading a Dr. Seuss book. My daughter snuggled into her side, the two of them looking like they’ve been reading bedtime stories together forever.

  Not gonna lie, y’all, I tear up a little bit.

  Twenty minutes later, I’m the one snuggled up with Eva. Bryce nodded off halfway through the book, so we’re safe to engage in adult activities (albeit quietly).

  The coffee table in front of us is littered with paper plates, half-empty whiskey sours, and my laptop. Some of my favorite porn is cued up. I hit play.

  It’s not a fancy night out. It’s not wild fun, the two of us grinding at a bar to Petey Pablo while the DJ goes to town on his electronic clarinet. Although I’m sure there will be more of that in the future.

  It’s just us, and frozen pizza, and some slow-mo foreplay between a ripped dude in a suit and another dude dressed puzzlingly, yet convincingly, as a wizard.

  But with Eva beside me—head on my shoulder, hand down my pants—there is nowhere on earth I’d rather be.

  No one I’d rather be with.

  THE END

  Epilogue

  Eva

  Edward woke with a groan.

  He was warm. Well slept.

  He was also very aroused. And there was something tight and hot wrapped around his cock.

  Opening his eyes, he watched as his wife—naked, her belly swollen—sank slowly onto his manhood, her hands on his chest, thighs spread on either side of his hips. Recently they’d both consented to waking the other with carnal attentions if the mood struck.

  It appeared his wife was in quite the mood today.

  He did not mind it. Not one bit.

  “Good morning,” she murmured, beginning to move.

  He reached up and palmed her breast. It was larger than normal on account of her pregnancy, and filled his hand quite nicely.

  “Morning, love,” he said.

  Sophie grinned at the endearment, making his heart clench.

  “I love you,” she replied, leaning down for a kiss.

  “I love you, too,” he murmured, licking his tongue into her mouth while at the same time reaching for her sex. He played with her there, making her pant.

  It had been quite the journey to get to this place where he freely admitted his affection. His adoration. But Sophie had showed him many things. How lovely it was to wake up in her bed, for one thing.

  For another, she showed him love wasn’t the awful, fearful game he’d believed it to be.

  She showed him love was indeed freedom and fresh air. Indecency and swoons.

  Speaking of—Sophie came with a small shout, legs shaking as she collapsed on top of him.

  “I do believe I’ve evened the score,” he said, pressing his lips to the crown of her head.

  “Oh? How so?”

  “You’re the one swooning this time.”

  She smiled. Ah, that smile. “And you’re the one catching me.”

  Edward wrapped his arms around her. They spent the remainder of the day in bed. Swooning and sweating and loving.

  A happy ending if there ever was one.

  “Pink or purple?” Bryce asks.

  I pretend to ponder this for a minute, tapping a finger against my chin. “Hm. How about pink today?”

  “Good choice.” She passes me the pink Sharpie. “You’ve been using the purple a lot, and daddy says change can be a good thing. It helps you grow. Can I help you sign again?”

  “Of course. I think I’ve forgotten how to do it without you.” I hold out my arms, and Bryce climbs onto my lap. She rests her little hands on the nearest stack of my second book, Southern Comforts. “What else did Daddy say?”

  “Bless his heart, Miss Eva, he says a lot of things. This morning I heard him in the bathroom telling you about a tonga.”

  “A tonga?”

  “Yeah. I think it’s a kind of Band-aid, because he said he was going to rip it off you. You gave him permission to do it, so I guess it’s okay.”

  I bite back a laugh. Ford and I were convinced Bryce was asleep when we were fooling around in the bathroom this morning—Ford was teasing me about my thong. She may have just turned five, but she’s still got a fun little habit of joining us in bed on the weekends or when we’re traveling. We’ve had to be very careful about when and where we get naked.

  “Consent is very important,” I say. “But that’s a conversation for another day.”

  The three of us are back in Charleston after a two week, twelve stop book tour (!) to celebrate the release of Southern Comforts. When my publisher sent me the finalized schedule, I knew right away I wanted Bryce and Ford to be with me for as much of it as they could. Lucky bastards that we are, we were able to turn the tour into a family trip of sorts with stops in Austin, Asheville, the Tennessee mountains, and New York City, among other awesome cities.

  My readers absolutely adore getting to meet the people who have inspired my family-friendly recipes over the past year. So do my sponsors; I’ve picked up a handful of really great ones, mostly kid and family related companies. No doubt thanks to F
ord and Bryce’s regular appearances on my blog—they’re the people I cook for the most, my first taste testers, my quality control—so readers feel a personal connection to them.

  And yeah. Doesn’t hurt that Bryce is so damn cute, and Ford is so damn good looking. Dressed in his book tour uniform of jeans and a crisp button down—sleeves rolled up so he can show off his tattoos—he’s made a lot of women do a lot of blushing. Myself included.

  Today we’re back in Charleston for the last stop of the tour. When Luke and Gracie offered to let us host the signing at the barn, it was a no brainer.

  “What better place to host it than the spot where the whole thing began?” Ford said, giving me a wink.

  “You mean the spot where you made one of your terrible vagina puns?”

  “Vagina puns?” Gracie looked at us, crossing her arms. “Sounds fun.”

  “Y’all should hang out with my mamas,” Luke added. “They are a virtual treasure trove of terrible genitalia puns. Mostly related to fruits and vegetables, so not exactly imaginative. But still entertaining.”

  So here we are, how many months later. Bryce and I sitting at an enormous farm table at the front of the space, set with more copies of both my books than I think I’ve ever seen in one place before. Gotta be hundreds of books. Maybe more. We’re expecting our biggest crowd today—not only because it’s my hometown, but also because Southern Comforts hit both the New York Times and USA Today bestseller lists this week.

  It’s a total pinch-me moment. Made sweeter by the fact that it all happened—the highs, the lows, the fever-drunk fights—with my new little family by my side.

  It’s been the best, most difficult, most rewarding experience of my life. But I’m already at work on the next cookbook, and I’m regularly hosting cooking lessons in Ford’s cavernous kitchen.

  Dreams really do come true.

  “Good morning, ladies!” Bryce and I both look up at the sound of Ford’s voice.

  My stomach flips at the sight of him as he strides into the barn, hands full. Lord, is he DILFing out today: sunglasses, slicked back hair, a pale pink button down that would look douchey on anyone else but looks just the right amount of hot Southern stud on him. “Brought y’all some coffee and juice. And champagne.” He sets a sweating bottle of something very expensive in front of me. “Because what’s a homecoming without some bubbly?”

  I grin as he kisses Bryce. Tilt my head up as he kisses me.

  Even after all this time, his kiss still gives me butterflies. The scruff, the lewd little slide of tongue he slips in because he likes to turn me on in public and toy with me—it’s delightful in ways I can’t quite describe.

  “Thank you, baby.”

  He nods at the Sharpie in front of me. “Going with pink today I see.”

  “My assistant told me change helps us grow,” I say, bouncing Bryce on my lap. “She also told me she heard you talking about tongas today in the bathroom.”

  Pushing his sunglasses onto his head, Ford laughs.

  “And here I thought we were being sneaky.”

  Gracie and Luke come into the barn, followed by Elijah and Olivia. Julia, Greyson, and baby Parker arrive not long after. Who isn’t much of a baby anymore—we celebrated his first birthday a few weeks ago.

  Immediately Bryce climbs off my lap to greet her cousin. “I just want to hold Boo’s hand,” she says.

  Seeing my friends gather around us makes my throat swell. A year ago, I would’ve laughed in your face if you told me I’d be celebrating my New York Times bestselling cookbook in a barn with a five-year-old in my lap, Ford at my side, and my friends around me.

  It’s not the happy ending I pictured for myself. But truth be told, it’s even better. My life is sweeter and fuller with these people in it. I wouldn’t change a damn thing. Not for the world.

  Julia wraps me in a tight hug. “I’m so proud of you, friend. For writing such a bomb ass cookbook. But also for that.” She motions to Bryce and Ford, who are currently oohing and aahing over Parker’s new front teeth. “I’ve never seen you or Ford so happy. Bryce, too. Y’all are, like, this ridiculously handsome, ridiculously picture-perfect family.”

  “Not perfect,” I say, shaking my head. “Far from it. And thank God for that. Although I could do without all the pee.”

  “The pee?”

  “Yeah. Every so often Bryce likes to climb in bed with us and pee everywhere. It’s a super fun way to start your day.”

  Julia just laughs. “Motherhood. Not for the faint of heart.”

  “No shit.”

  People start to pour into the barn in earnest. My mom and dad. Eliza and Monty, who’ve brought a gigantic cake he made to celebrate. My agent, my editor, a bunch of people in the literary community I’ve met here in Charleston. Fans. Readers.

  Alex shows up with a super handsome stranger on her arm and a strange expression on her face. She smiles when she greets us, but it doesn’t touch her eyes.

  “Eva, meet my new boyfriend, Mason,” she says, and he loops his arm awkwardly around her waist.

  Mason offers me a tight smile as he extends his other arm to shake my hand. “Pleasure to meet you. Congratulations on your new book.”

  “Mason? Mason Yates?” Ford appears at my elbow, a big smile on his face. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

  Mason takes Ford’s hand, his smile tightening even more. “I always forget what a small place Charleston is.”

  “Y’all know each other?” Alex asks. I think I see a spark of panic ignite in her eyes, but before I can be sure, she looks away.

  “Mason is one of Montgomery Partner’s largest investors,” Ford explains. “Great to see you, man.”

  “Great to see you too,” Mason says, although judging by the red flush creeping up his neck, he’s not as thrilled as he says he is.

  I manage to pull Alex aside while Ford and Mason talk shop.

  “Is that who I think it is?” I ask.

  Alex is blushing now, too. “Hm?”

  “Gorgeous grump. That’s gotta be him. He’s gorgeous. He’s grumpy. When the hell did you two start dating?”

  “It’s—um—new,” she replies, not meeting my eyes.

  “But I thought you hated him.”

  She cuts a glance in his direction. “You know what they say about love and hate.”

  I have about a million more questions to ask, but then Ford is asking our little circle if they want mimosas, and I’m pulled back into the madness.

  This is overwhelming. In the best possible way.

  Mom makes a beeline for Bryce, holding her on her hip while I sign a million and a half books. The two of them have really taken to each other; they love spending time together. Love it. Mom’s taught Bryce how to make her Mexican recipes, and Bryce has taught Mom all about Dora the Explorer, unicorns, and play dough.

  Playing the role of grandparent has really made my mom light up. Seeing her so happy has made me light up. Even my dad has some extra pep in his step when he’s around us these days.

  Even better? Having my own family has made me that much more patient—that much more appreciative—of the family I came from. It’s also helped me keep some healthy boundaries in place.

  I won’t say things between my parents have gotten better or worse. Tough to tell, because Mom and I don’t talk about it anymore. But I do know my Mom has started seeing a therapist regularly, which is definitely a step in the right direction.

  I also featured her a lot in my new book. When she read the dedication—it was to her, of course—she cried. I can tell it gave her a much needed boost of pride in all the hard work she did raising a family. Work that went unsung for way too long.

  I’m proud of my relationships with the people I love.

  I’m proud of all the work I’ve done to get to this place.

  Is my life perfect? Hell no. I have my moments. I lose my shit. I make mistakes. I’ve learned there is no mastering a work/life balance. That some days you kill it and others you
stumble. You just do your best, day in and day out, and give yourself grace when you mess up.

  But I still love it. I’m chasing down all my dreams. Ones I’ve had forever, and new ones, too.

  And I get to chase them down alongside Ford. I can’t help but feel like his unconditional love and support has made me blossom in ways I never could’ve imagined.

  I only stop signing when we run out of books. Ford, being the rock star he is, has stocked the bar with a couple kegs and some snacks made by none other than Elijah Jackson. The signing morphs into a party in ten seconds flat.

  It just might be the best party I’ve ever been to. All my favorite people in one place. Summer sunshine outside, cold beer in my hand, Bryce’s arms wrapped around my waist. Ford’s eyes on me from across the room.

  He’s always looking out for me. Always ogling me like the horny teenager he was when I first fell for him all those years ago.

  Talking to my friends and family—hearing how much they loved the arroz con pollo, or how they made Mom’s grits casserole for a friend who had a baby—recipes that I grew up on, that I loved, too—fills me with a gut-deep sense of joy.

  It also makes me want to cry.

  Ford must sense I’m on the verge, because he’s suddenly at my side. Lifting Bryce onto his hip with one arm, he slips the other around my waist and pulls me against him. Pressing a quick, hot kiss into my neck.

  “Tired? Should we hit the road?” he asks, his breath warm on my skin.

  I shake my head, offering him a tight smile. “I’m just so proud, you know? Proud of how today went. Proud of the book, and the fact that I persevered and stuck with it even when I had no clue where it was going.” I meet his eyes. “Proud of us and what we’re building together.”

  He gives my side a squeeze. A pulse of heat ignites low in my core and stays there. “I’m proud of us too, E. The past year has been the best of my life. I mean that.”