Chapter 14 Dean
DEAN
Dad Company (But Sometimes Good Advice)
Jett Nelson: Hey, guys. My wife is calling me “Daddy” while talking to our kids and I think I want her to do it in . . . other places. Should I bring this up to her?
Comments:
Oliver Brian: Is this a joke post?
Ryan Kim: Communication, man. Also, have some decorum.
Robert Colt: Ack, I don’t wanna know this. Admins, delete please!
Robert Colt: But also, just communicate it. Plenty of us have our things in the bedroom. Even weirder things than being a daddy.
In the light of day, I could see more of Grace’s split-level home as I drove up. It was a good family home with plenty of space. Even with the minor work it needed, I liked the idea of our kid being raised here.
Our kid. I would never get used to that.
As I walked up to the door, my repair on the step was holding up. I was proud of myself for getting that done without her noticing it. And I’d liked her response even more.
My eyes traced over the house. One gutter was leaning, but that was easily fixable, and her porch could use railings to make it safer.
The front door opened as I stared.
“Eyes on me,” she said. “You’re not sneakily repairing anything else.”
“You say that now, but I don’t need your permission.”
Her eyes were narrow. “It’s my house.”
“You know I’m good at sneaking around.”
Her cheeks went pink. “I . . . do know that.”
I replayed what I’d said and knew I needed to clarify. “I mean with repairs. And fixing things.”
“Right, that.” She nodded and opened the door wider. “Come on in. Hopefully the food will distract you.”
Grace turned to let me follow her.
As I did, I couldn’t help but let my eyes trail downward. God, she looked incredible. The feeling I’d been missing when looking at others was back full force in her presence.
It didn’t help that there was more of her to look at now. I knew better than to ever comment on a woman’s weight, but the sight of her ass these days would easily put me into an early grave.
There was only one other thing that could have distracted me, and it hit when I got halfway to the kitchen.
Food. Delicious, home-cooked food.
Was there anything she couldn’t do?
“Holy shit, what is that smell?”
“That better be a compliment,” she said.
“Oh, it is.” I looked into a pan where there was a meat sauce simmering. At first glance, I was thinking we would be having some sort of pasta, but the smell was different. A mix of spices hit my nose. I wasn’t good enough at cooking to be able to tell them apart.
“It might not be Tuesday, but I figured we could have tacos. I’m about to start the tortillas.”
“Is this sauce for them?”
“No, it’s just the meat. I simmer it in a sauce to make it taste better.”
My mouth was already watering, but then I caught what she said. “Wait, start the tortillas?”
“Yep. I make them from scratch.”
“You do all of this yourself?”
“It’s one of my favorite pastimes. Usually, I just don’t have others to cook for, but I make enough to feed an army.”
“Where did you learn this?”
“From my mom.”
“Is she here?”
“No,” she said softly. “She passed away about three years ago.”
“Shit, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. It’s part of life.”
I didn’t know how she could talk about it so calmly. Some days, I still felt like the kid who came home to his mom sobbing on her knees on the living room floor.
All I could do was stare, and she caught on to that.
“Have you lost someone?”
It was tempting to answer. But also dangerous to.
“Some days, I think I’ve lost my mind,” I said. “Does that count?”
She laughed. “Not really.”
“I am sorry about your mom, though.” It was easier to say it as she was focused on flipping a tortilla. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “It was a fair question. And I’m doing okay. Other than . . . you know, managing a house. She made it look easy.”
“The best moms are good at that,” I replied.
“I don’t know how I’ll manage to make it happen, but I’ll get there somehow.”
“You’ll be great. Certainly better than I’m gonna be at being a dad.”
“You’re not all bad. You did fix my step instead of running like I thought you would.”
I huffed out a humorless laugh. “That was never an option. Even when I was acting like a jerk.”
“Really? But you seemed so . . .” She trailed off, wincing.
“Sometimes how I sound doesn’t match up with what I mean,” I said. “I’m used to a one-and-done thing, so I don’t have to rethink things when I mess them up.”
Grace paused in her work and looked up at me. “So, are you willing to rethink things?”
“Not about dating,” I said quickly.
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not gonna ask about that. Trust me, I remember that you don’t date.”
“Then, what is it?”
“I wanna know what went through your head when I told you.”
“You mean other than pure shock?”
She nodded. “On my end, it felt like you were looking for any reason to get out of it.”
“No,” I said immediately. “That’s not what I was thinking. I was making sure the timing was right, and then figuring out what I should do. In bad words, of course.”
Grace hummed, eyeing me for one more second and then looking back down at the food. “You know, I keep thinking I have your whole personality pinned down. And then you do nice things and I realize I’m wrong.”
“What did you think about me? Before, I mean.”
“That you were a playboy running from responsibility.”
“I can handle responsibilities.”
“It’s attachment you can’t,” she said.
“Now you get it.”
“I want you to know that I respect that you don’t do attachment, but you also need to know that that’s the opposite of how I am. We don’t have to be together, but we have to be something here. We’ll have to get to know each other.”
“Right,” I said. “I’ll . . . work on that.”
“We can start with the basics,” she said. “Just general things, and work our way up.”
I knew she was right, but the uncomfortable pressure in my chest told me this was a bad idea. I knew I would be tempted to let her get deeper than anyone else had been before.
“Just basics. That’s a good start.” That was the best answer I could give, even if it wasn’t entirely truthful.
She smiled and continued flipping tortillas. A few minutes later, the last one was done.
“We’re ready to eat,” she said as she turned to grab plates. “What would you like on yours? I have salsa, sour cream, cheese, and a bunch of other things.”
“I’ll have all of it, but I’m making my own plate.”
She turned and frowned at me like she’d never heard that before. “You’re my guest.”
“And I’m a grown-ass man,” I said. “I don’t need you to serve me.”
She blinked, her cheeks darkening as if she didn’t expect that kind of answer from me. But it was the truth. I didn’t want anyone to serve me, nor did I want her bending over backward to make sure I got what I wanted.
I had a feeling she would try.
I went to the fridge and got out all of the toppings. Grace had an iron grip on the plates, but I got my own and made it.
There was a dining room right off the kitchen. It had at least six seats. It could fit more.
“This is a good house for raising a kid,” I said.
“I’m lucky,” she replied. “Mom left it to me. It felt fuller when Brooke and I were kids here, though.”
“You’ll get there.”
“Yeah, I imagine it won’t be as quiet when there’s a kid running around.”
She looked over the house as if she were imagining it.
I was tempted to do the same thing. Instead, I took a bite of my food.
Flavor like I’d never known exploded on my tongue.
It was spicy with a hint of sweetness. The meat was perfectly seasoned, and the tortilla tasted different than any I’d ever had from a store.
“Holy shit,” I said. “This is fucking incredible. I should marry you right now over this.”
“Marriage again? You’re gonna have to get your priorities straight.
You just told me you didn’t do relationships.
” I froze. I’d said it as a joke. But then she laughed.
“I know what you meant, Dean. And I take it as the highest compliment. It’s not every day that I meet someone that doesn’t know that I can cook. ”
“I’m bad at this for a reason.” My cheeks were still burning.
“We can’t all be the best at everything. Trust me, I’m a pretty forgiving person.” She gave me a smile and then bit into her own dinner.
She had to be if she was still talking to me after how I’d acted when I first found out.
That also had to extend to Brooke. I had tried not to think much about the person I met when I first came into town, but the information I did have stuck out hard.
I remembered meeting her and being so shocked that she was related to Grace.
I remembered how Grace rushed to fix her sister’s problems.
And I internally vowed never to be one of those problems.
I could do it too. If only I could keep my mouth shut.
This dinner was proving that it was harder than it seemed.