“Yeah, just me and my friends. I spend so much time at work there’s not much time for anything else.” It sounds sad even to my own ears.
“Well, luckily you have all of us now,” he replies after a few moments. “We can be the family you didn’t want but got stuck with anyway.”
I laugh. “You guys are all wonderful. The MC is definitely like the big, tight-knit family I always wanted.”
“That’s nice to hear.”
The pizza guy pulls up and we both head inside. While Trade goes to answer the front door, AJ comes and sits next to me at the dining table. “So Nadia, I figured it out. My go-to meal,” he tells me excitedly.
“What is it?”
“Bagels with cream cheese and avocado. I’ve eaten one every day this whole week. Do you want me to make you one?”
“We’re about to have pizza, but another time, yeah, I’d love to try one,” I reply, smiling.
Trade and the girls join us at the table. This is such a new experience for me, and I take it all in, listening to them, watching them interact. I notice how the older kids all help look after Mila, like true siblings, and how close all of them are.
India even kisses Mila on top of her head. “You smell good, Mila.”
Mila grins back at her. “Thanks.”
They all love each other, and it’s really nice to see. They don’t fight and argue, although I’m sure that happens sometimes. But from what I’ve seen they all respect each other and work as a unit.
Trade helps Mila serve her food and watches her, making sure she is okay at all times, and it’s super cute. He truly sees her, and treats her as his own.
“Thank you, Daddy,” Mila says.
“You’re welcome,” Trade responds with a smile of approval at her polite manners. “I didn’t know what pizza you liked, so I got a little of everything,” he says to me.
“I’m not too fussy,” I tell him. “I usually get pepperoni. Sometimes with jalapenos.”
“So you like it spicy, huh?” he replies, smirking.
“Something like that.”
“I did get pepperoni.”
He opens the box for me, and I take out a slice. “Thank you.”
“That’s my favorite, too,” India says, smiling. “Alia likes the plain cheese one. I think it’s a little boring.”
“Sometimes the classics are the best,” Alia fires back.
“I like them all,” Mila announces, grinning. She’s super cute. I can’t help but smile every time I’m around her.
“Do you want a piece of my meat lovers?” AJ asks, pointing at his pizza box.
“Sure, why not?” I add another piece onto my plate.
I spend the next hour chatting with Trade and the kids, loving the banter back and forth between them.
“I already know what I want for Christmas,” India is telling us all.
“Was it a new mom? Because it looks like you might be getting one,” Alia mutters, loud and clear enough for all of us to hear it.
My mouth slightly drops open, and I don’t know what to say to that. This is the first that Alia has seemed unhappy with me being around them, and I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do next. I bring my eyes to Trade, who is looking unimpressed.
“Alia,” he says sternly. “That was uncalled for.”
“Is it the truth, though?” she replies, arching her brow at her father.
“Alia.” India scowls, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s not a crime for Dad to hang out with a lady.”
“The last time he hung out with a lady—”
“She ended up being a better mom to us than our own mom,” India fires back.
The table goes silent.
And then AJ, bless him, declares, “I like Nadia. You better not scare her away.”
“I want my mommy. I don’t wanna new mom.” Mila starts to cry, and India gets up to give her a big hug, soothing her.
Trade gives his oldest daughter a smile and then stands. “Alia, come with me now. We are going to have a chat.”
“You’re in trouble now,” AJ sings. When the two of them disappear, he smiles at me. “Don’t listen to her.”
“It’s okay,” I say, giving a quick look to Mila, who seems to have stopped crying. I start talking to all three of them. “You know, no matter what, no one will replace your mom. I know some bad things have happened to you guys, but your mom will always be here.” I put my hand over my heart. “No one will ever replace her, ever.”
Mila puts her small hand over her own heart and gives it a pat. I melt just watching her.
“Thanks, Nadia,” India says.
Trade and Alia rejoin us. “I’m sorry, Nadia. That was rude and I shouldn’t have said that,” she says, and while I can tell she means it, there is a hint of indignation to her. She’s a tough cookie. I see a bit of myself in her.
“It’s okay,” I assure her. “Thank you for your apology.”
It’s awkward, but we move on. After dinner they have their showers while I clean up the kitchen, and then Trade reads them a story in bed.
“Sorry that took so long,” he says. “And you didn’t have to clean up.”
“Don’t say sorry for being a good father,” I say, rolling my eyes. “You do what you have to do, don’t worry about me.”
We head back outside and sit down together, enjoying the moonlight and the cool breeze. I could sit and look up at the sky with him all night.
“I’m really sorry about Alia,” he says.
“It’s okay. It isn’t going to be smooth sailing all of the time.”
He sighs. “No, it’s not. That doesn’t mean that she can be rude, though.”
“Being a single dad must be hard.”
He nods. “It is, and I know that they miss Ariel. I do have a lot of help, though, and the kids have so many people who love them. I tell them that all the time.”
“They do,” I agree. “But they have been through a lot. You all have.”
“Thank you for what you said to them. Alia heard it, too. I think I have to be better about reminding them of that. Talking about Ariel, keeping her memory alive.”
“Have you not talked about her?” I ask in surprise.
He cringes a bit. “Well...not really, no. I just assumed talking about her would make them feel bad and make them miss her.”
I grab his hand. “Trade, they will miss her regardless. Talking about her will make them happy. Will make them remember all the good. They need that. You need that.”
“How’d you get to be an expert?” he asks while giving my hand a squeeze.
“I lost my mom when I was young, and while it wasn’t easy, my dad and I made it work.”
“Oh, I’m sorry—”
“No, no. It’s been a long time. I had a good childhood, although my parents worked a lot. Me and my dad had a great relationship.”
“Had?” he asks with trepidation.
I nod. “Yeah, he passed away after my mom. It was a heart attack, about five years ago.”
“We aren’t always dealt easy hands.” He sighs, looking up at the stars. “It’s just fucked up how bad things happen to good people.”
“I know,” I whisper.
“Ariel never hurt anyone in her life. She was a good person, and she didn’t deserve what happened to her. You want to know the real fucked up thing?”
“What?” I ask.
“I told her we were going out to a fancy dinner, which is why she wanted to get dolled up. If I hadn’t made those plans, she wouldn’t have been on the road that evening, and she would still be alive today,” he says, laughing without humor. “I think about that all the time. If I had planned dinner on a different night, or if we had just stayed at home and chilled, she would still be here.” He looks down at our entwined hands and squeezes.
Th
at’s heavy, and a lot of guilt to carry around. And as good of a time as I’m having here tonight, I wish for him and those kids that she was alive as well.
“You can’t think of it like that. It won’t change anything, and there’s no point punishing yourself about it. It was nothing you did, and it wasn’t your fault.”
It would be hard not to get lost in the what-ifs, though, and I really do feel for him. The world can be a cruel place sometimes, and he’s felt that firsthand.
So have the children.
I let go of his hand, reminded how complicated this whole situation is. It’s only been a year since he lost Ariel. I know there are no rules on how long it takes for people to move on and that everyone deals with grief differently, but it seems too soon for us.
Maybe we should wait longer. If we don’t, are we ruining us before we even start? I feel like if we rush into this we might be destined to fail.
I don’t know.
He reaches out and takes my hand back. “You are a bright light, you know that?”
I duck my head, not knowing what to say to that. “Do you think you are...” I trail off and clear my throat. Just say it, Nadia. “It’s only been a year since you all lost Ariel.” I look down at our intertwined fingers, finally understanding exactly why Bronte has been so concerned and wary of the situation. “I just want to make sure we know what we are doing right now.”
He nods slowly. “I’m going to be honest... I have no idea what we’re doing. I just know that I like being around you, and I find myself thinking about you all the time. I know why you’d be concerned—you have every right to be. I will always love Ariel, but I cannot live in the past. It’s not good for me and it’s not good for my kids. She’s gone and I’ve accepted the situation for what it is.”
“So you think the timing is right?” I ask.
“I think that you’ve got my head so muddled I have no idea,” he admits.
“So we both have no idea what the hell we’re doing, or if it’s a good idea, but we both like each other and seem to be unable to stay away from each other,” I confirm.
He nods. “Yeah. When you put it like that, we’re fucked, aren’t we?”
“We are so fucked.”
“I’d like to take you out sometime, if that’s okay with you? I’d like to see where this goes...”
“Okay, I’d like that.”
“But...” he says, then pauses as if he’s still gathering his thoughts. “I can’t promise that I won’t screw this up. I’m ready to move on, but...”
I reach out to touch his arm. “I understand. Dating a father of four is new for me, too.”
He laughs.
One of the girls calls out for Trade, and I use that moment to take my leave, saying goodnight and walking myself out.
I leave feeling more confused than when I walked inside his house, but not everything has to make sense or be solved right away, right?
Some things, usually the best things, you just have to let flow naturally and see what happens.
If it’s meant to be, it will.
Chapter Thirteen
After emailing my client what I found out about her biological parents, their location and contact details, I close my laptop. My eyes lift when a deliveryman enters my office holding a beautiful bouquet of orange tulips.
“Those are for me?” I ask, brow furrowing. I can’t remember the last time I got any flowers when it wasn’t my birthday.
“Yes, ma’am,” the man says, asking me to sign as he sets them on my desk. He thanks me and leaves while I sit there staring at the flowers, just admiring their beauty. I then reach for the card and smile so wide it hurts as I read the note.
Dinner tonight? I can pick you up at seven.
Thinking about you.
Trade
I know he said he wanted to take me out, but I’m still taken aback by this gesture. It seems so official, but I like that he put effort into our first date.
I want to jump up and do a happy dance. He is finally letting me know where he stands and making a move, and I love this for me. Yes, I know it’s complicated, but the first reaction from me is yes. Yes, I want to try to see where this can go.
I confirm via text. Seven sounds perfect. See you then.
I send Bronte a message letting her know that he asked me out, and then get back to work, smiling the whole time.
Bronte replies with Who do you think is babysitting? adding a winky face, and I write back to her telling her she is the best friend in the world. I love how supportive she is being despite her concerns. I’m just going with my gut here, like I do with my work, like I always have.
That’s all I know. And I’d rather try and fail than always wonder “what if.”
The rest of the day goes by in a flash, and at the end of the day I head home. I have a long shower and take my time, washing my hair, and shaving—just in case. It’s not always every day that I have the time to pamper myself, and I actually enjoy a little self-love time.
Once I’m all clean and moisturized, I leave my hair in a towel and check my wardrobe, wondering what to wear. He didn’t say where we are going, but I want to look cute no matter how casual or fancy the restaurant is. I decide to play it safe and wear my favorite pair of light denim high-waisted jeans, a black off-the-shoulder top that ties up at the front, and black block heels. I straighten my dark wavy hair and apply a little bit of makeup—light foundation, nude lips and some black kohl around my eyes framed in a few swipes of mascara. I smile at my reflection in the mirror, and grab my clutch bag with my phone and debit card in it.
Trade arrives on time, which I appreciate, and comes to the front door and knocks. He looks so handsome even in just jeans and a black shirt, and he smiles as I open the door.
“You look beautiful,” he murmurs.
“You clean up well yourself,” I reply, stepping out the door and locking it behind me. The scent of his cologne hits me and makes me want to jump him. “Thank you for the flowers today—I loved them.”
“I’m glad,” he replies, walking to his truck with me and opening the passenger-side door. He’s such a gentleman and being chivalrous just comes naturally to him, but it means a lot to me. I haven’t been on a date in so long and I know he’s going to make sure it’s a wonderful one, because that’s just the type of man that he is.
“So where are we going?” I ask as he gets into the driver’s seat. I was a little nervous before he arrived, but now that he’s here I just feel...content.
Like I’m where I’m meant to be.
“Well, I checked a few places out because I wanted it to be somewhere new, somewhere hopefully neither of us have been before and somewhere you would love,” he admits, turning down the music a little. “So I settled on a seafood restaurant, because Bronte mentioned that you love seafood, especially crayfish.”
“So you’ve done your research,” I reply, impressed. “I do love seafood, but I pretty much love any type of food. I’m not too fussy on that front.”
“Good to know. It’s been a while since I’ve been out to eat, never mind on a date, so I might be a little rusty.”
“You and me both.”
“Why don’t you go out on dates? You’re beautiful, successful, ambitious, kind... I could go on...”
I laugh. “Honestly, I’m always busy with work. In my experience men always say that they want a strong, independent woman, but when it comes to dating one? That’s another thing. I do spend a lot of time at work and it’s a job I take home with me, too. Men don’t like that. At least my last ex-boyfriend didn’t, and after we broke up I never bothered dating anyone else. It’s not that I’ve been opposed to it... I guess I hadn’t met anyone who really caught my eye.”
Until now.
I glance over at him, and as though he could hear my thoughts, he smiles, reaches over and takes m
y hand. “I like that you are so passionate about what you do, and I’d never hold you back from that. From what I’ve seen so far, I like you just the way you are. I didn’t plan on dating again; I just wanted to focus on the kids and feel sorry for myself. But I like you, Nadia. I like spending time with you, I like seeing you smile. And I know that means something. You are an amazing woman. I know I come with a lot. I have kids and a past and all of that—”
“I like you just as you are, too,” I reply.
I accept him just as he is, with the kids, with the past, with everything.
“I think at this point in our lives, we need to either accept each other as we are, right now, in this moment, and all that comes with that, or we don’t bother,” I say. “Or at least we try to learn to.”
This conversation got deep really soon—we haven’t even made it to the restaurant yet—but we’re laying it all out on the table. I guess when you’re dating someone with kids, you kind of have to. He has to think about the kids first, and I understand that. The children should always be put first in any situation.
“So considering you’re sitting here, I’m going to assume the whole four kids thing isn’t a deal breaker for you.”
I laugh. “No, it’s not. I’ve never dated anyone with kids before, though, and besides Quinn I haven’t spent much time with children.”
“I wouldn’t have guessed that. You are wonderful with my children. After the dinner we had at my house, the kids all gave you the seal of approval.”
“Did they? That’s good to know. Is that what that dinner was? A predate to make sure that I pass all the tests?” I ask, lifting my brow.
“It wasn’t a test, but I did want the kids to spend some time with you, and they all gave me the thumbs-up. They think you are great, even Alia, and she hardly likes anyone. But if they didn’t it would be kind of hard to date you, so luckily for me they approve.”
“Lucky for me, more like it. I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: you are a good father,” I say.
“Thank you,” he replies, running his thumb along my knuckles. “I try, that’s for sure.”
We arrive at the restaurant. Trade opens my door for me and guides me to the entrance with his hand on the small of my back. My senses are all on alert, and every time he touches me it’s electric. I don’t know if it’s because it’s been so long or because it’s him, but I think it’s a mix of both.
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