by Sydney Logan
The man was obviously crazy about his daughter, which made him infinitely more attractive in my eyes.
“How old is she?”
“She’s seven.”
The question was on the tip of my tongue, but I’d just met the man. I couldn’t ask about Arwen’s mother. Could I?
Nathan was watching me closely and he grinned. “You can ask me anything, Jada.”
How did he know?
“Well, I was just wondering about—”
“Arwen’s mom?”
“It’s none of my business, really.”
Nathan shrugged and took a big bite of his muffin. He moaned appreciatively, and the sound sent shock waves through me. “I have nothing to hide. It isn’t a topic I care to discuss, but I don’t mind telling you. Her name was Amy—”
“Was?” I felt foolish for interrupting, but the word slipped from my lips before I could stop it.
“Amy died before our daughter turned one year old. Alcohol poisoning.”
“Oh.” That wasn’t what I expected at all, but it did explain his earlier reaction to my mention of Margarita Mondays. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It was inevitable,” Nathan whispered sadly. “This is going to sound cold, but I’m glad Arwen can’t remember anything about her mother. That’s not to say we don’t talk about her, but I’d prefer her memories not be tainted, you know?”
“Yeah, I get it.”
We spent the next few minutes talking about our mutual hatred for Valentine’s Day and everything it represented.
“It’s such corporate bullshit,” I muttered, “but Heartfelt Designs isn’t a bad place to work. It gives me the chance to do what I love and make people smile. Not many jobs can do that.”
“I like it, so far,” Nathan replied. “Not only does it get my designs out there, but hopefully I’m making the world a more beautiful place. That’s every artist’s dream come true.”
We finished our muffins, and Nathan glanced down at his watch.
“I really need to get home,” he said softly, “but listen . . . if I can work it out with the sitter, would you let me take you to that Mexican place tomorrow night?”
He could take me to a burger joint for all I cared.
“I’d love that.”
Nathan sighed with relief. “Good.”
He promised to call later, and I watched as he hailed a cab. Before climbing into the car, he gave me one last smile, and then he was gone.
“What are you wearing?”
Giggling, I cradled my cell closer to my ear and rolled over onto my back. “Hello to you, too.”
Nathan chuckled softly. “Did I wake you?”
“I’m in bed, but I wasn’t sleeping.”
“I bet you were writing.”
“Yeah, I’m always writing,” I replied. “Besides, I’m a night owl.”
“Me, too.”
I heard movement on the other end, and I imagined him stretching out. Maybe on his bed? Please let his body be stretched across a bed because I could really use that visual.
“I’m sorry to call so late. Arwen was particularly hyper tonight. It took me forever to sing her to sleep.”
My heart melted. “You sing?”
“Well, I hum,” he said, laughing. “The time is coming when she won’t let me sing her to sleep, so I’m trying to enjoy it while I can.”
We grew quiet until he finally admitted that tomorrow night’s date would have to be put on hold. The sitter had tickets to a play. I could hear the disappointment in his voice, and it made me smile.
“It’s okay. Another night.”
“I’d really like to see you,” Nathan said softly, making my skin tingle. “I was thinking . . . if it isn’t too weird, you could come to my place and have dinner with us.”
Us.
“Wow, with your daughter? That’s—”
“You’re right, that’s way too weird. I haven’t dated in so long, I wouldn’t know what was appropriate or . . .”
“No, no. I’m just surprised, that’s all. I’d love to have dinner with you and your daughter.”
I heard his sharp intake of air. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“Is seven o’clock okay?” he asked, a little uncertain. “I know that’s early, but I like to have Arwen in bed by eight or so.”
“Seven sounds great.”
“Good. Now, on to more important matters . . .” I could hear the playfulness in his voice.
“Which are?”
“You never told me what you’re wearing.”
I laughed. “Good night, Nathan.”
“Good night, Jada.”
After paying the cab driver, I took a deep breath and walked up the steps leading to Nathan’s building. It was impressive, as most buildings in the West Village tend to be, and I wondered how an illustrator could afford such an expensive place in the city. I smiled politely at the doorman, and he tipped his hat to me before asking my name.
“Mr. Reynolds is expecting you,” he said with a smile, pointing me toward the elevator. I stepped inside and quickly punched the button, grabbing onto the steel wall while I willed myself to calm down.
It’s just dinner. It’s not a date. It’s just dinner.
This remained my mantra, even as I stood in front of his door, trying to find the courage to knock.
Instead, I smoothed my hair and glanced down at my clothes. I’d decided to dress casually, thinking I should at least be comfortable if I was going to be this nervous. The white silk blouse and jeans were still far dressier than my usual outfits, but was it good enough?
Suddenly, the door swung open, and there he was—smiling at me—wearing nothing but a simple black T-shirt and jeans. The man wasn’t even wearing shoes. He smiled brightly at me, and I took a deep breath while his eyes roamed over me.
“You look so pretty,” Nathan said softly.
And just like that, all my insecurities were gone.
He invited me inside, and I was stunned by the sheer enormity of the place. Rich mahogany furniture filled the room and the sofa appeared to be made of Italian leather. Despite all that, it had a cozy, homey feel. Decorative artwork was displayed throughout the room—all of which reminded me of his drawings.
“Your designs?”
“Yes.”
“They’re lovely, Nathan.”
“Thank you,” he said, smiling. “What’s in the bag?”
In my nervousness, I’d completely forgotten about the gift in my hand.
“Oh, it’s just something I picked up for Arwen.”
“That’s very nice of you. Come on into the kitchen so you can meet her.”
Nathan led me into the brightly lit kitchen, and I smiled when I saw the little girl sitting at the table, carefully arranging taco shells onto a platter. Nathan cleared his throat, and she looked up in surprise. Ringlets of blonde hair flowed down to her shoulders, and her blue eyes sparkled.
“Hi,” she whispered softly, but her smile was sunny, making me hopeful that she didn’t completely hate me already.
“Hi. I’m Jada. You must be . . . Belle?”
Her smile became even brighter, and she nodded.
Nathan chuckled and offered me a chair at the table while he checked something on the stove.
“We’re having chicken tacos,” Arwen said excitedly. “Daddy said I could sprinkle the cheese.”
“Well, you’re doing a great job. I like lots of cheese.”
Which was a good thing, because the pan was covered with it. So was the kitchen table, not to mention the floor right beneath her feet. Nathan seemed completely unfazed by the mess she’d made, which I found a little surprising considering how immaculate the living room appeared.
“Is it your birthday?” Arwen asked.
I glanced at Nathan, and he grinned, nodding toward the gift bag.
“Oh! No, this is for you.”
“You can open it after dinner,” Nathan said.
Any anxiety I fel
t about this dinner melted away while the three of us enjoyed our tacos. Nathan’s daughter talked nonstop, and I wondered if she was just naturally chatty or if she was a little nervous, too. I found out that she was in the second grade and loved to read. Her teacher was Ms. Fox, and she sat next to a boy named Elijah who liked to steal her pencils.
“Elijah’s picking on you because he thinks you’re pretty,” I said.
She wrinkled her nose. “I know. He wants me to be his girlfriend.”
Nathan choked on his taco shell. I shot him a grin while he gulped his water.
After dinner, Arwen took me by the hand and led me to her bedroom. A white canopy bed was filled with fluffy pillows and stuffed animals, and every inch of the soft pink walls were covered with princess posters. And there was a pink bookshelf—filled to the rim with books. Excitedly, she pulled me toward the shelf, and the three of us sat down on the carpet while she introduced me to her library.
“I forgot your gift on the kitchen counter,” I said. “Would you mind getting it for me?”
Her little face beamed before she climbed to her feet and ran out of the room.
“She really likes you,” Nathan whispered.
“I like her, too.”
The peaceful expression on his face made me weak in the knees. He looked relieved, happy, and just a little amazed.
“You seem surprised.”
“Actually, I’m not surprised at all, Jada.”
We smiled at each other just as Arwen reappeared with the purple gift bag. Positioning herself between the two of us, she eagerly reached in and pulled out the book. Her happy gasp filled me with relief.
“It’s Belle!” Arwen squealed, showing her dad the cover of the Disney storybook. “Thank you, Jada!”
“You’re welcome.”
“Can we read it now?”
“After your bath,” Nathan said gently.
Arwen nodded and rushed toward her dresser. She pulled out her pajamas and slammed the drawer before sprinting out of the room.
Nathan chuckled. “Normally, getting her into the tub is a fight.”
I glanced down at my watch, my heart sinking a little when I noticed the time.
“I should probably head home and let you get her settled.”
“You’re welcome to stay. All I’m allowed to do is start the water. She won’t even let me wash her hair anymore.”
I laughed. “She’s an amazing little girl, Nathan.”
“Thank you.”
Arwen yelled for her dad, and he offered me a heart-stopping smile before climbing to his feet and walking out of the room.
After the quickest bath in history, Arwen was finally tucked into her bed with her new book. She’d struggled with some of the harder vocabulary, and that’s when she asked me to join her. I glanced at Nathan, making sure it was okay, and he smiled approvingly. Slipping off my shoes, I climbed into the canopy bed, and Arwen snuggled close as I read aloud. At one point, I noticed Nathan slip out of the room, only to return moments later with a sketchbook in his hand. He settled himself on the floor and began to draw as Arwen and I took turns reading about Belle and her beast.
The little girl was snoring before we reached the happily ever after.
I gently closed the book, and when I looked up, I was startled by the expression on Nathan’s face. He was watching the two of us intently, his eyes sparkling with some emotion I couldn’t quite name.
“What are you drawing?” I whispered.
Nathan smiled sheepishly. “You’ll see.”
“Can I see now?”
He shook his head. “It isn’t finished.”
Lowering his head, he continued to sketch. I wondered what he was thinking, watching as I held his little girl while she slept. Was this level of affection typical for her? Was she naturally so open with strangers? I’d expected her to be a little distant and unfriendly, but she’d been nothing but sweet and talkative all night long.
It made me sad, because I knew she had to miss having a mom. I hadn’t given much thought to her until now. I’d been so excited that Nathan wasn’t wearing a ring that I didn’t consider the fact that his daughter was growing up without a mother.
Tonight had been unexpected, in more ways than one.
Eventually, Nathan closed his sketchbook and rose to his feet. I took that as my cue, and I slipped out of the bed, careful not to wake Arwen. Nathan gently tucked the blankets around her and leaned down to kiss her forehead before the two of us crept quietly out of the room.
Silently, we walked toward the living room. Nathan led me over to the couch, and we settled against the leather sofa.
“You look overwhelmed,” he murmured.
“I am, a little.”
“Is it a good or bad overwhelmed?”
“Good, I think.”
“That’s how I feel, too,” he said, smiling softly as he scooted closer to me. “It was . . . really something, seeing the two of you together. She’s not usually so friendly with the women I date. That’s why I don’t go out much. To be honest, this is the first time I’ve had dinner with someone who wasn’t my daughter in a very long time.”
“What happened with the other women?”
He sighed deeply. “I didn’t let them meet Arwen until we’d been dating a few months. The last thing I wanted was for my little girl to become attached to someone if I wasn’t sure there was a chance it’d work out between us. I was very clear from the beginning that Arwen was, and always will be, my first priority.”
“Well, of course she is. That’s how it should be.”
Nathan smiled sadly. “They didn’t see it that way.”
“So, tonight’s dinner was a test?”
“Sort of, I guess. I really did want to have dinner with you, and the sitter really did have plans, so we didn’t have a lot of options.”
I grinned. “We could have gone out another night.”
“I didn’t want to wait.” Nathan reached for me, sliding his hand along mine until our fingers entwined.
“Did I pass the test?” I whispered, loving the feel of his hand against mine.
Nathan laughed lightly. “My daughter asked you to read her a bedtime story. That’s never happened.”
Warmth flowed through me.
He grabbed the remote, and the two of us pretended to watch whatever was on the television screen. It was something about a man . . . and his dog . . . or was it a cat? I had no clue, because all I could focus on was Nathan’s hand and the way he was drawing little patterns against my palm with his finger.
“Tell me something about you,” he whispered.
“What do you want to know?”
It was almost hypnotic, the shimmering blue of his eyes.
“Everything.”
Wrapped in our own little bubble, we sat on the couch until long after midnight. I told him the most mundane facts about my life, beginning with my birth date and ending with details about my brief marriage to Austin.
“We were just kids . . . two friends who thought it’d be cool to get married. Once the honeymoon phase was over, and we actually had to be spouses, it dawned on us pretty quickly that we’d made a stupid decision. We were divorced within a year.”
Nathan told me about his life in Oklahoma. His father owned a construction company in Tulsa, and his parents had divorced when he was twelve. His mom loved real estate and actually co-owned this building—which explained how he was able to afford such an expensive place.
Then, he told me about Arwen’s mother.
“We met in college during my sophomore year. In our life drawing class, we were asked to draw nude bodies. Amy was one of the models. Long blond hair, legs that went on forever . . . to a teenage guy, she was every fantasy come to life. We started dating, and within three months, she was pregnant.”
I squeezed his hand, giving him a little encouragement to continue.
“I wouldn’t trade my daughter for anything, but for a nineteen-year-old kid, it was overwhelming
to know that I was going to be a father. Amy was wild, which was something that hadn’t really bothered me while we were dating because I didn’t care. I wasn’t in love with her. We were just kids, and you’re supposed to do that crazy stuff in college. You experiment and you dabble in things you probably shouldn’t. The problem for Amy was that she experimented too much. I didn’t realize how much until we found out she was pregnant. The doctor told her she couldn’t drink, and she completely freaked out. She was an eighteen-year-old alcoholic, and she was carrying my child—a child she didn’t want. I had to promise to raise the baby all by myself. That’s the only way I could convince her not to have an abortion.”
My stomach twisted. How could she not want her child?
“How did you keep her from drinking while she was pregnant?”
“Money,” Nathan admitted with a sigh. “My parents deposited $50,000 into a trust. The cash was hers if she stayed sober during her pregnancy and signed all parental rights over to me once the baby was born. She had to consent to weekly drug tests, too. Once we got her through detox, it was a little easier. She seemed content with the knowledge that she could drink to her heart’s content as soon as she gave birth—which is exactly what she did. Our daughter was born just before Christmas. By May, we were attending Amy’s funeral.”
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, my heart breaking for him and his daughter. “What a horrible thing for you to have to endure.”
“I couldn’t have handled any of it without my mom. I moved out of the dorms and back home, so that she could babysit while I was in class. My dad helped some, too. They didn’t really get along when they were married, but they’re good friends now. My daughter couldn’t have two better grandparents. Amy’s folks are dead, so I didn’t have to deal with any of her family getting in the way of the custody agreement. I know that probably sounds cold . . .”
“No, it doesn’t. It sounds like a devoted father.”
Silence filled the air, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. We continued holding hands, and I’d occasionally look up to find him gazing intently at me.
“You’re blushing,” Nathan murmured.
“You’re staring.”