Single Dad

by Noelle Adams

  “She does, but she’s kind of shy, and I didn’t think she’d have a good time in a room full of adults she doesn’t know, especially since I assume I’ll have to do some schmoozing.”

  “I’m sure you will. It looks like a really good turnout. Have you met the president yet?”

  “No. Not yet.”

  “He’s over there. Come over, and I’ll introduce you.”

  I take him to meet the college president and his wife, and then a few other people join the conversation. Unsurprisingly, Max is relaxed and confident and charismatic, and he soon has the group laughing.

  I know it doesn’t happen intentionally, but I end up getting pushed to the periphery of the conversation. It’s fine. I know how and why it happens. This evening is more about Max than about me. All I did was acquire a few books.

  I leave the conversation and go to join Beck and Evan, who are talking to their friends Jennifer and Marcus on the other side of the room. I really like all of them, so I have a good time, and the hour of the reception passes quickly.

  At eight, the president goes to the front and gives a short speech about the exhibit. Then Max goes to the front and explains the inspiration for the exhibit and praises his student’s work. Then, to my surprise, he talks for three minutes about how helpful I was and how much I did to contribute, so the whole room ended up applauding me.

  I’m not the kind of person who likes to be the center of attention, so I ended up flustered and embarrassed. I’m not fully recovered when Max escapes from the group of people who gather around him when the speeches are done and comes over to join me.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” I tell him.

  “Why wouldn’t I? You helped a lot.”

  “I didn’t do—”

  “Stop saying that. You put a lot of your time into this, and you deserved to be recognized for it. I didn’t embarrass you, did I?” He’s studying my face.

  “A little. But just because I don’t like all those people staring at me. It was nice of you to do.”

  “Okay then.” His smile broadens. “So you finally agree I’m a nice guy.”

  “I never said you weren’t.”

  “Well, if I recall correctly, you’ve said at various times that I’m obnoxious and entitled and pushy. And at one point you called me a jerk.”

  “I didn’t—” I stop when I remember that I did. “Well, you were a jerk at that moment, but that doesn’t mean you’re not normally a nice guy.”

  “So you like me now?”

  “Of course I like you.”

  “Good. Mission accomplished then.” He leans over and murmurs in my ear. “I’ve got to talk to some more people. Some of my students brought their parents, and I haven’t gotten a chance to meet them all yet. But if you don’t mind hanging out for a while and waiting, I can walk you back to your place after this is over.”

  Our eyes meet across the few inches of distance between us, and I understand exactly what he’s saying.

  A hot shiver runs through me. “I don’t mind waiting. But if I don’t have anyone to talk to, I’ll go and wait in my office. I hate standing around on my own in small-talk situations.”

  “Understood. If I don’t see you, I’ll look for you there.”

  I return to my friends, and they stay another half hour before they leave. By that point, the library is emptying out. Max is chatting with what looks like a few students and their parents. He’s fully absorbed in the conversation. He’s not just being polite.

  I like that about him. That he’s real, even in his charm.

  I glance around, but none of the other people present are ones I can easily go up and chat with, so I head to my office to sit down for a while and recover my calm.

  Max finds me there a half hour later.

  “You ready?” he asks, leaning through my open doorway.

  “Yes.” I jump up, slip my phone in my purse, and walk over to join him. “Are your duties all fulfilled?”

  “All fulfilled. All but one.”

  I gulp at the flare of fire in his eyes. “All but one?”

  His mouth quirks up. “Walking you home.”

  “Oh.” I’m sure I blush again. I wish I didn’t do that, but it’s an uncontrollable response that unfortunately reveals too much.

  He brushes my cheek with the tips of his fingers. “You look beautiful tonight.”

  I have to look away from his eyes, or the expression will definitely go to my head. “Thank you. You look pretty good yourself.”

  “I’ll take pretty good, if it’s coming from you.”

  I have no idea what to say to that. No idea even what to think. So I don’t say anything as we leave the library and head to my place. It’s getting dark outside, so I’m glad of Max’s company. Milford is a fairly safe campus and a fairly safe town, but I still don’t like to walk by myself in the dark—even the few blocks to my house.

  As we walk, Max asks me about the class I’m taking. He makes conversation easily. This much I’ve already learned about him. He’s got a quick mind and a smooth tongue, and he always seems to know something good to say. But it feels like more than just small talk as I explain to him what the course is about and how I’m focused on nineteenth-century American women writers for my degree. I tell him my favorites of the course I’m taking this semester—literature of the Civil War—and although he’s read almost none of the works, he asks thoughtful, intelligent questions about them, so I end up talking a lot more than I normally do.

  We’ve reached my building before I know it, but Max doesn’t seem in a hurry to leave. We stand on the porch as he asks, “So why get a master’s now? You’ve already got one, and you’ve got a good job. Is this not the kind of job you want?”

  “It is. The job is exactly what I want. I always imagined myself at a bigger university, but now that I’m here I really love it. But I don’t actually make a lot of money here, and I have student loans to pay off. They always have extra freshman English classes that they need to hire adjunct instructors for, so it would be a way to make some extra money on top of my salary.” I pause, taking a couple of breaths before I add, “That’s always my explanation when people ask, but I’m not sure it’s the real truth. You know as well as I do that adjuncts don’t get paid much money. The truth is, back in college, I was all excited about this dual degree I could have gotten from the University of South Carolina that would have given me a master’s in both English and library science in three years. I really wanted to do it. But then...”

  Although I trail off, he obviously knows what I’m going to say. “Your boyfriend happened.”

  “Yeah. Ron. I moved to Durham for him, so I ended up getting my degree there. I could have put together some way to get both master’s, but with work and everything else, it just didn’t seem worth the effort. So I didn’t. And now it feels like something unfinished to me. That’s why I’m doing it, whether or not I ever actually use it.” I bite my lip, surprised I said so much about things that feel personal to me, but I don’t regret it. Max is really hearing me.

  “I think it’s a good thing for you to do.”

  “Thanks. I hope so. I feel kind of bad sometimes since the degree is costing me money. But Milford helps out with extra education for its staff, and I’m doing an online program that isn’t really very expensive. So I hope it’s worth it.”

  “It sounds like it will be. What’s good for us can’t always be calculated in monetary terms.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I think that’s right. That’s why I’d like a house instead of my apartment. We always lived in a townhouse when I was growing up. It was fine, but it didn’t feel like a house. There wasn’t much of a yard, and we couldn’t have any pets. And I always wanted... to live in a little house with a little dog.”

  “Then that’s what you should have. Get one now.”

  “That’s my plan—in the summer when more rentals become available.” I smile up at him rather sappily before I stop myself. “I waited too long. I told
you I made decisions I wouldn’t have made otherwise because of my boyfriend. I feel like I’ve done that a lot. Put off things I want. Not followed through on my dreams. Because it didn’t seem like the right time. Like I needed to be more settled. More... established.”

  “What does that mean? Settled? Established?”

  I give a sheepish shrug. “To tell you the truth, I think it means married. I’ve always had this idea at the back of my mind that when I get married, I’ll really be settled, and then I can have the things in life I want. So in some ways I’ve been living on hold. I don’t know why. I’ve never consciously believed that. But I’ve made decisions based on it. I’ve just realized that I’ve done that in the past year, so that’s why I’m trying to focus on getting the things I want in my life right now instead of letting dating distract me.”

  “I see what you mean.” He glances behind him and leans against the railing on the porch, getting more comfortable as he speaks. “I know it hasn’t been your experience with your ex-boyfriend, but a decent guy wouldn’t distract you from the things you want. He’d help you get them. Wouldn’t he?”

  “Yeah. Yeah. In theory.” I rub my face and lean on the railing beside him, keeping my body half turned in his direction. “And my ex was pretty selfish. I have no qualms about admitting that. But the main problem is me more than the guys. I’m the one who’s always somehow assumed that I had to be married to start my life.”

  “Did your parents believe that?”

  “No. I mean, not consciously. They never told me anything like it. But they’re pretty old-fashioned. My whole extended family is. Everyone is very marriage-and-baby oriented, and every time I go home, I face all this grating encouragement about how the right man will show up soon. They don’t mean any harm by it, but they obviously think I’m lacking something because I’m not a wife and mother yet. Not my parents. Or my sisters. They’re really affirming. But the rest of them...” I shake my head with a wry smile. “So maybe it’s partly where I come from. But in some ways, I don’t think it’s just me. Little girls are told stories in books and movies over and over again about how their lives are aimed at finding a man, finding a prince. They’re shown over and over again that a man is their ultimate goal. It’s hard to fight the way that’s drilled into our heads.” I give him a sideways look, loving the glow of his face in the moonlight. “I guess guys don’t have the same experience.”

  “No. Not exactly. Our stories seem to be quests—advancing step by step until we achieve victory. Maybe it has a different sort of effect on us. I thought I was doing everything right. I went to college. Went to grad school. Got a job. Got married. Had a little girl. Started my own business. Step by step. Right in order. And I guess I assumed that if I did everything right, I’d be rewarded with a happy life and happy family.” He glances away. “It didn’t exactly work that way.”

  “So you aren’t happy?” My voice is slightly urgent because the dryness in his voice worries me.

  “Oh I am. I am now. But I wasn’t happy in my marriage, and the divorce was really hard on all of us. Things are good now. I like doing my own thing in business. I like teaching part-time. And I love Freddie more than anything. I wouldn’t have changed a single thing because it got me the life I have now with her.”

  I feel so close to him at this moment that I have to do something to express it. I reach over and squeeze his hand.

  I only intended it as a brief gesture of connection, but he turns our hands around until he’s holding mine, and he doesn’t let it go.

  I don’t try to pull it away. I want to keep touching him.

  “What is Freddie like?” I ask.

  He smiles, looking out into the evening beyond the porch. “She’s smart and stubborn and thinks through things deeper than anyone I’ve ever known. She takes the world really seriously. She’s quiet with people she doesn’t know. She’s one of those people who kind of fades into the background until you start really talking to her. Then it’s like she comes to light. She shines.”

  “She sounds great.”

  “She is. I worry sometimes about her in school. Kids aren’t kind to people with her personality—who don’t shine right away.”

  “No. They aren’t. But I’m sure she’ll do okay. Hopefully she’ll make a couple of close friends. That makes all the difference. I was never much of a shiner myself.”

  He turns his body toward me, and his smile warms. “I don’t believe that for a minute. I can’t imagine a world in which you didn’t shine.”

  I give a surprised laugh. “Well, start imagining. I was never very popular in school.”

  “But you’re so beautiful.”

  It’s impossible not to blush at such a matter-of-fact compliment. “I’m not so sure about that.” Before he can argue, I go on, “But I do think I’ve gotten better-looking as I’ve gotten older. I wasn’t that pretty in school. I was scrawny, and I had bad skin, and I was always trying to hide behind my hair. I was always self-conscious. But I had a few friends, so school wasn’t too painful for me. I did a lot of fading into the background.”

  “Did you really?” He shakes his head and reaches over to stroke my jaw with his thumb. “Your school must have been populated by clueless fools.”

  I giggle. “I guarantee you wouldn’t have been into me back in school since you were one of the popular guys.”

  “Well, when you were fifteen, I was already married, so I’d have had to be some sort of pervert to be interested in you.” He drops his hand and jerks his head to the side. “Shit. That sounds horrible. Maybe I am too old for you.”

  “I’m twenty-seven, Max. I could legitimately be with a sixty-year-old if I wanted.”

  That seems to be the right thing to say because Max turns back to me. “Is that what you want? To be with a sixty-year-old?”

  I swallow hard and sway slightly, supported only by the railing behind me. “No. I don’t.”

  “Do you want to see me?” His voice is low, thick, hypnotic.

  It draws me so much I lean closer to him. “I... I think so. As long as we keep it... simple.”

  He nods. “Simple is best for me too. I do want us to be clear about this.” He cups my face again with one hand and then lets it slide down to span the side of my neck. “I want you, Katrina. More than I can remember wanting anyone. But Freddie is at the center of my heart, and she’s the only person who will ever have that position again. She has to come first with me. All my relationships have to be...”

  “Disposable.” I speak the word as it comes to me.

  “That sounds terrible, but it isn’t wrong. It’s not that I won’t value you. Because I will. I do. I’ll treat you as well as I possibly can. But you’re never going to come first with me.”

  Despite my resolve to not fall for this man completely, this last sentence hurts just a little. Not that I ever expected anything different, but because it’s so final. It closes a road to me—ensuring I can never go down it.

  And maybe a little part of me wants to see the end of that road.

  But it’s better this way. It’s safer. And it makes it a lot easier for me to enjoy this without doubts and questions.

  “I understand, Max. I don’t want anything else from you. Disposable sounds exactly right.”

  He straightens up. “So you want to...”

  “I do.”

  “Thank God. If you said no, I’d just erupt right here on the porch.”

  That makes me giggle, and then somehow I’m leaning against him, clinging to the lapels of his suit. When I realize what I’m doing, I look up to check his face.

  The world comes to a full stop. For longer than I ever believed it could. Max’s gray eyes are smoldering like molten silver.

  No one has ever looked at me like that before. I’ve seen lust in men’s eyes, but not like this.

  It’s like he might swallow me whole, and I want him to. I want to be swallowed up in him. He’s a man and an artist and a father and a business owner, and he lives a
full, established, deeply rooted life.

  And right now he wants me.

  Only me.

  “Max?” I whisper, my fingers tightening in the fabric of his suit. I don’t even know what I’m asking.

  He answers it anyway. He leans down into a kiss.

  The moment our lips meet, the desire simmering between us for weeks now is finally unleashed. I grab for him hungrily and open my mouth to the advance of his tongue. He steps me back against the railing and kisses me hard and hungry, so forcefully I lose my breath and my vision blurs against my eyelids.

  My whole body is already throbbing. From nothing more than a kiss.

  He tears his mouth away as one of my hands slide inside his jacket. “We need to take this inside before I take you right here on the porch.”

  “Oh. Right. Inside.” I fumble for my keys in my purse. “Come on in. I’m on the second floor.”

  He’s got his hand on my back as we walk upstairs, and he’s reaching for me again as soon as I push the door to my little apartment open.

  Then he’s got me back up against the wall, kissing me like a starving man.

  I’m just as starving. I’m trying to drag his jacket off and wrap one of my legs around him at the same time.

  I really don’t know how to describe it. It’s like an outside force has taken control of my body. And it needs this. Only this. Max against me, above me, inside me. Everywhere.

  He sheds his jacket and tie as we kiss, and then he clumsily undoes the little pearl buttons on my blouse until he can get it off. He makes a growling sound as he stares down at my white lace bra.

  “Shit, you’re so gorgeous. How are you so gorgeous?” He reaches up to stroke the curve of one breast with his thumb. “You’re like one of those fancy wedding cakes.”

  This analogy surprises me so much it distracts me from reaching around to grab his ass. “What?”

  He huffs. “Was that a bad comparison? I just mean you’re so gorgeous and pale and delicate-looking and you’re in that white lace, and I desperately want to eat you up.”