Chapter 2 – Michael
Chapter Two
MICHAEL
“ D ad? Dad!”
“Huh? What?” I drop the layout plans I’ve been poring over and spin around. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
Katie frowns at me from her seat at the kitchen table. “We need help with these fractions.”
Her cousin Rose sighs in frustration. “Our teacher didn’t show us how to do it.”
I highly doubt that’s the case—more like the girls weren’t paying attention. I get it, though. School wasn’t exactly a walk in the park for me either, and I would rather have been playing out in the woods any day than sitting in a classroom.
“Let’s take a look.” Leaving the plans for the firehouse kitchen on the counter, I pull up a chair between Katie and Rose. “Do you remember the first step?”
“Uh-huh.” Katie picks up her pencil and then does some math that makes zero sense.
“What’s that?” I raise my eyebrow at my daughter.
“It’s the first step.”
I literally scratch my head. Well, shit. “That’s not how I was taught to do it.”
“That’s because you went to school, like, forty years ago,” Rose says, completely serious.
I nearly choke on air. “I’m not even forty. How is that possible?”
“He’s thirty-five,” Katie says, matter-of-fact.
“See, look how good you two are with numbers. You know who has an answer for this? YouTube.” I pull out my phone and find a video on how to take care of fractions the modern way.
With the girls back on track, I head over to my plans again. I’m still not sure about how much I want to prioritize extra counter space, and, silly as it sounds, it’s a problem that’s been keeping me up at night.
This isn’t just a kitchen I’m redoing. It isn’t just another contracting job.
It isn’t even about making a good impression as Pine Island’s new fire chief.
It’s more than that. This project is important in a way that wrings my heart.
Even if I don’t want to think too hard about it.
The back door opens, and Jenny walks in, bag over her shoulder, knitting needles and a half-done scarf in her hands. “Hey, all.”
“Hi, Mom.” Rose doesn’t bother looking up from her phone.
Wait. Her phone?
“Hold on.” I fold my arms over my chest. “What happened to your homework?”
“We’re done.” Katie looks over Rose’s shoulder and giggles at something on the screen.
“Hey, guess what?” Jenny knits as she stands in my kitchen.
“What?” I lean back against the counter.
“You have a date tomorrow night with Pine Island’s newest shop owner.”
“Uh… Excuse me?”
“You’ll thank me later.”
I cut my gaze to the girls. Katie has obviously overheard what my sister has said, and she’s waiting for my reaction.
I clear my throat. “Jenny, I want to show you something in the…my room.”
Once we’re at the other end of the house, I shut the bedroom door. “What are you thinking? Bringing up a date in front of Katie?”
She makes a face. “Come on, Michael. Give her some credit. She can handle more than you think. Anyway, this town is so small and nosy, she would have heard about the date from someone else anyway.”
I cross my arms again. I can’t deny that, but still, there’s the other part of this issue. “I didn’t say I would go on the date.”
“So, you don’t want to do it?” The way she’s eyeing me makes me feel so exposed.
Jenny has always been good at reading people. It’s probably one of the reasons she’s such a successful therapist. I’m forever asking her opinion on people. When she turns the talent on me, though, it’s a different story.
“I…” I run my hand over my head, noticing that I need a haircut. Shit, I’m not even ready for a date.
In more ways than one.
“Hey.” Her tone softens. “I know. It’s been a long time. It’ll be good for you, though. It’ll be something new. And it’s not like you have to run to the chapel and get married to anyone.”
“But you want me to.”
She bites her bottom lip, something she does when she’s trying to hide her true feelings.
I sigh. “Okay, fine. So, who is this woman? Who did you pick?”
“I can’t tell you that. Just show up at Knit Happens at seven tomorrow night, and she’ll be there.”
“So, she owns Knit Happens?” My sister makes a motion of zipping her lips. I can’t help but shake my head and smirk.
“Wear something green. That sweater Mom gave you a couple years ago will be nice. It’ll bring out the gold flecks in your eyes.”
“I know how to dress,” I say, though I already know I’ll be taking her advice and wearing the sweater.
She ignores my attitude. “Katie can come over to our house tomorrow. We’ll all have a pizza-making party, and then she can spend the night. That way, if the date goes well, you can see it through.” She winks.
I groan. “Damn, Jenny, way to make it awkward.”
She opens the door on a laugh. “Relax. I’m not asking for a play-by-play.”
I follow her into the kitchen, where Rose already has her backpack on. “Can I have extra gaming time tonight?”
“What about your chores?” Jenny tucks some loose hair behind Rose’s ear.
“I’ll get them done really fast!” Rose darts out the back door.
“Remember,” Jenny calls over her shoulder as she leaves as well. “Green sweater!”
The second the door closes, Katie is on me. “What was Aunt Jenny talking about? You have a date?”
“Uh…” I shift awkwardly, unsure of how to approach this.
But then I remember the promise I made to myself years ago—that I would never lie to her. The two exceptions to this pertained to Santa and the Tooth Fairy, and by five, she’d uncovered the truth about both of them.
So, I do what only makes sense. “Yes. I have a date.”
There it is. I guess I’m going on a date.
Which is insane. I don’t date.
Ever.
“A date with who?” She studies me intensely from behind her wire-rimmed glasses, and I remember what Jenny said about her being able to handle more than I give her credit for.
“I’m not sure. Your aunt set it up.” I watch for her reaction.
“Oh.” She gets the orange juice carton from the fridge and pats me on the shoulder. “Good. It’s about time.”
“I—it’s about time?” I sputter. “Since when are you keeping track?”
Unfazed, she pours a glass of juice. “The longer you go without dating, the harder it will be. Better to rip the Band-Aid off, like you told me when I skinned my knee.”
Taking her orange juice, she leaves the kitchen. A moment later, the sound of her bedroom door closing echoes through the house.
I stay planted by the counter, my head swimming. When and how did my kid get so wise?
Then again… I catch sight of the orange juice carton on the counter, lid dropped on the floor, and dribbles of juice on the stove.
She’s not yet one hundred percent developed when it comes to everything.
I consider calling her back in to clean up after herself, but I need the silence and space to think, so I put the orange juice away and then start stress-cleaning the whole kitchen.
Jenny and Katie are right. It has been too long since I’ve been on a date.
It’s not like I haven’t been with other women in the eleven years since Talia and I split, but none of those weekend flings—or, sometimes, just nights—were meant to last.
Actual dating is different, a whole new ball game.
Am I ready for it? What will I even talk about with this woman? My whole life is Katie and work—first contracting, now running the fire station here.
I scrub the stovetop harder, my stress mounting. If nothing else, I can just end the date. Tell her I’m sorry and leave.
But I can’t deny that I’m actually a little excited. Not just to meet someone new, but to spend an evening not having to put out little fires—both literal and metaphorical. An evening to just be me .
And who knows? Maybe Jenny is right, and this will be the start of something new.