Chapter 16
As soon as Terry left, Sandra stood at the front door for a moment, her hand still resting on the cool metal of the deadbolt. The house was quiet, and she was suddenly unsure, caught between respecting boundaries and wanting to make sure Emma and Toby were comfortable with her being there.
The role she was supposed to play here wasn't clearly defined. They didn’t need a babysitter, and she wasn't even officially their father's girlfriend.
Yet. That one word carried weight she wasn't sure she was ready for.
Terry had just indicated he wanted more than friendship, and there was no denying she did too.
But wanting something and being prepared for its reality were two entirely different things.
Dating a single father meant stepping into a world where she would always be one part of a larger equation.
Emma and Toby weren't just part of Terry's life…
they were the center of it, and if she wanted a future with him, they would also become part of hers.
The thought was both thrilling and terrifying.
She walked down the hallway toward the kids' rooms, her socked feet silent on the hardwood floors.
When she'd been in Terry's bedroom the previous weekend, she'd been too focused on him to pay attention to the rest of the house.
Now she could see how thoughtfully he'd arranged everything.
The main living areas occupied the front, with one hallway extending toward Terry's primary suite and another leading from the kitchen past the laundry room to what were obviously the children's bedrooms.
She stopped at the first door, relieved when she saw it was partially open.
She smiled as she spotted Toby sitting up in bed, a book propped against his knees, his dark hair still damp from his shower.
Terry had allowed the kids to sit up late, but she didn’t mind if Toby wanted to read until he fell asleep.
His room was a perfect reflection of an eleven-year-old boy caught between childhood and adolescence.
The walls were painted ivory, except for the accent wall behind his bed, which was deep navy blue, serving as a backdrop for an eclectic collection of posters—Olympic swimmers frozen mid-stroke, a detailed map of the solar system, and what appeared to be a chart showing different types of sharks.
His twin bed was covered with a comforter featuring various sports equipment, and a few stuffed animals that he probably wouldn't admit to still sleeping with occupied one corner.
The desk under the window was cluttered with school supplies, a half-finished LEGO spaceship, and several books about marine biology stacked next to a lamp shaped like a basketball.
Swimming ribbons decorated the top of his dresser, interspersed with rocks and shells that had obviously been collected during beach walks.
The room felt authentically Toby… the space of a boy discovering his interests while still holding on to childhood pleasures.
"I know your dad told you I was here, and you don't need a babysitter," she said softly, not wanting to startle him. "I'll just hang out in the living room until he gets back."
Toby looked up from his book and grinned, the expression so much like his father's that it warmed her chest. "That's cool!
You can watch TV or whatever. Dad's got all the streaming channels.
" He yawned widely, the kind of jaw-cracking yawn that meant he was fighting sleep but determined to finish his chapter.
"Thanks. What are you reading?" Sandra asked, genuinely curious.
"It's about this kid who gets to work with marine biologists for the summer," Toby said, his eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. "There's this whole part about tracking migration patterns that's really awesome. Did you know some sharks travel thousands of miles?"
Sandra found herself smiling at his excitement. "I had no idea. That sounds fascinating."
"It is! Dad says maybe next summer we can take a trip to see the research stations they talk about in the book." Toby's expression grew slightly more serious. "He always follows through on stuff like that. Like, if he says we're going to do something, we do it."
The simple statement carried pride in his father, security in Terry's reliability, and maybe a subtle message that Terry could be trusted to keep his promises. Smart kid.
"That sounds like an amazing trip," Sandra said. "Your dad seems like someone who keeps his word."
"Yeah, he does." Toby yawned again, then grinned at her. "I'm going to read for a little while longer, then I'll turn out my light. I'll be asleep in no time. Dad says I can drop off instantly… faster than he can make it to the door sometimes."
She chuckled and gave him a little wave. "Good night, Toby." She was turning to walk away when his voice called out, stopping her in her tracks.
"It was really nice to meet you, Sandra. I hope you come back soon." He paused, then added, "You make Dad smile differently than he usually does. Like, a really happy kind of smile."
The simple honesty in his words sent warmth spreading through her chest and made her throat tight with unexpected emotion. Out of the mouths of babes, she thought, remembering her grandmother's favorite saying.
"Thank you, Toby," she managed, her voice softer than she'd intended. "Good night."
The next door revealed a large bathroom that the kids shared, complete with double sinks and what looked like an ongoing negotiation about whose toiletries belonged where. At the end of the hall was Emma's room, the door cracked open just enough to let light spill into the hallway.
Sandra knocked gently on the doorframe. "Hey, Emma. I'll be in the living room if you need me for anything until your dad gets home." She winced at how formal that sounded and rushed to add, "Not like a babysitter or anything. You're way too old for that."
"You can come in," Emma said in cautious invitation.
Sandra gently pushed the door open and stepped into what could only be described as a perfect reflection of a twelve-year-old girl discovering her own style.
The walls were painted a soft lilac that caught the light from the bedside lamp, and the curtains and bedding featured a sophisticated blue-and-purple floral pattern that was both youthful and mature.
The white furniture provided a clean backdrop for personal touches that made the space uniquely Emma's.
"Your room is beautiful," Sandra said with genuine admiration, taking in the careful attention to detail that spoke of a father who wanted his daughter to feel special.
Emma's gaze drifted around the room as though she was seeing it through someone else's eyes for the first time. "Thanks. When we first moved here, Dad said I could pick out my paint color. I thought purple was a happy color."
"I completely agree," Sandra replied, thinking of her own childhood bedroom that had been decorated in the neutral beiges and whites her mother had preferred. "Purple is definitely a happy color."
"I used to have a bedspread with rainbows all over it when I was younger." Emma’s voice carried a slightly wistful tone, the one kids get when remembering their younger selves. "When I got older, I kept the walls purple but thought this looked more grown-up."
Sandra moved farther into the room, her attention drawn to the framed artwork hanging on the walls. The swirls of color were clearly the work of a young artist, but there was something special about them.
"I love these pictures," she said, leaning closer to examine what appeared to be a watercolor of the beach at sunset.
"Thanks, I did those," Emma said, and Sandra could hear both pride and bashfulness in her voice.
Sandra's head whipped around, her eyes wide with surprise. "You're kidding! These are incredible!"
Emma beamed under the praise, but Sandra noticed how the girl studied her face carefully, as if gauging whether the compliment was genuine.
"Last summer, I took an art class and really loved it.
This summer, I'm taking a writing class that I'm really excited about.
" She scooted to the far side of her bed and inclined her head toward the space beside her. "You can sit down if you want."
Sandra was surprised by the invitation, recognizing it as a sign of tentative acceptance. She settled on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb the perfectly arranged throw pillows, and glanced at the framed photographs on Emma's nightstand.
One picture showed a group of kids on the beach, all arms and legs and summer-bright smiles. It was easy to pick out Emma and Toby in the group, their faces glowing with happiness.
The other photograph was a more formal Christmas morning scene with a younger Emma and Toby standing in front of a perfectly decorated tree. Terry stood on one side of his children, and Sandra assumed the woman on the other side was Patricia. The ex-wife was tall, blond, and very pretty.
"That's my mom," Emma said, following Sandra's gaze with matter-of-fact honesty.
"It's a beautiful family picture," Sandra said, meaning every word. The four of them looked genuinely happy in the photo, which spoke well of Terry's ability to maintain a positive relationship with his ex-wife.
"I don't know if it's weird for you to be dating my dad and see a picture of my mom, but—"
"It's not weird at all," Sandra rushed to assure her, touched by the twelve-year-old's consideration for her feelings. "That's your mom, your family. I would never want you to feel like you have to hide or explain that to me."
Emma nodded, then shrugged with what seemed like careful assessment. "They've been divorced for six years. I barely remember them actually living together."
"I'm sorry," Sandra murmured, not sure what else to say.
"Oh, don't be," Emma said quickly, but Sandra caught the way the girl's eyes sharpened slightly, as if testing Sandra's reaction.
"They're much better as co-parents than they ever were as a couple.
Mom and Dad have always been honest with Toby and me about everything.
Mom never planned on kids, and I was a surprise.
An 'oops' baby. Then it was even more of a surprise when she got pregnant with Toby so soon after. "
Emma shrugged again, but Sandra could see the intelligence in her eyes, the way she was deliberately sharing this information.
"We know Mom loves us, but she travels a lot with her job, and that's where she gets her happiness.
Dad always said he gets happiness from his work too, but the biggest part comes from me and Toby. "
The simple statement hit Sandra harder than she expected. This child had a clear understanding of her parents' strengths and limitations, but Sandra sensed that Emma was also communicating something important. Terry's priority was always his children.
"It sounds like your family has found a way to work that lets everyone be happy," Sandra said carefully.
Emma nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful.
"Sometimes it sucks that Mom doesn't spend more time with us.
But Dad always makes it better." She paused, then looked directly at Sandra with startling intensity.
"You're the first person he's brought around.
I mean, I know he's gone out before, but he's never introduced anyone to me and Toby. "
The weight of that statement settled over Sandra like a blanket. Being the first woman Terry had introduced to his children felt like both an honor and a test she wasn't sure she was prepared for.
"Well, I'm really glad to meet you both," she said softly.
Emma yawned then, but Sandra noticed how the girl's eyes never left her face, still studying, still evaluating.
"I've enjoyed talking with you, Emma. I hope we can do this again. I'd love to hear about your writing class."
A soft smile slipped over Emma’s face. “I’d like that.”
As Sandra reached the doorway, Emma's voice called out to her, soft but clear in the darkness.
"My dad's a really good guy, Sandra. He deserves someone who understands all of him. I can tell he likes you."
"I like him too," she said with a smile.
She walked out, closing the door with a soft click before heading back down the hallway. The house felt different now. It was warmer, but also more complex. She'd just been given genuine warmth tempered by protective loyalty from Terry’s children.
In the living room, she gravitated toward the photographs displayed on various surfaces.
The Christmas photo from Emma's room seemed to be the only picture of the whole family together.
The other pictures told a different story—Terry and the kids on adventures that spoke of a father determined to fill his children's lives with experiences and memories.
Looking at those photos, Sandra understood the dynamics. This wasn't just about dating Terry. It was about potentially becoming part of something bigger, something that had taken years to build and would require care to maintain.
She settled onto the couch with a glass of wine, pulling the throw blanket over her legs as she processed the evening.
The children’s reactions to her made Sandra feel more confident rather than less.
Terry had raised kids who were secure enough to be themselves, smart enough to ask the right questions, and loving enough to want their father to be happy.
An hour later, as her eyes grew heavy, Sandra drifted off to sleep with the memory of Terry telling her he wanted more. She was being welcomed into something precious, and the responsibility of that felt both daunting and exactly right.