Page 22 of Make You Stay

The barbecue is delicious, and my girls are full of amusing stories about their lives.

No way is her date nearly this much fun, especially not with Zeke Williams.

Still, I can’t keep my mind from floating to my petite next-door neighbor, wondering how her evening is turning out.

Fucking Zeke.

“How’s Chloe?” Natalie asks, shoveling more pork into her mouth.

“On a date with Zeke Williams.”

My daughter’s eyes light up. “He’s handsome.”

“What’s so great about him?” Yes, I’m defensive. Every woman should realize what a tool the man is, not how good-looking he appears.

“He’s gorgeous, Dad. For an old guy, anyway.”

I scoff at my daughter’s response. “Thanks, Natalie. The man is actually three years younger than me. I must be ancient.”

“You look way older with the beard.”

Another one harping on the beard. Tossing down my napkin, I glance around the table. “You girls don’t like the beard?”

Six eyes focus on me, their heads shaking in tandem.

Here I thought it upped my cool factor, giving me a rocker edge.

“None of you like it?” Even Emily, whoalwayshas my back, scrunches her face in disgust.

“Sorry, Dad. You looked better before.” Natalie drops a kiss on my head before dashing out of the room, her phone buzzing in her hand.

Later that night, after the girls are asleep, I stand in my bathroom, arguing with my reflection as I grab the clippers from the shelf. “This isnotto impress Chloe. It’s for the girls, who apparently despise the beard. Remember, this has nothing to do with Chloe or what she wants.”

My reflection doesn’t buy my bullshit excuse, either.

A final sigh echoes through the room as the clippers jump to life in my hand.

Here goes nothing.

Chapter 6

Chloe

Ipeel open my eyes, scrunching them shut against the buzz saw screeching in my brain.

Unfortunately, the headache isn’t from imbibing too much alcohol or partaking in too much fun with Zeke last night.

Nope, the pain isbecauseof Zeke.

The man is an outstanding human specimen—just ask him—and he’ll spend hours regaling you with tales of all his attributes. He only pauses long enough to convince you to spend the night with him.

What a great time you’ll have. How amazing he is. Yada, yada, yada.

But Zeke didn’t get lucky last night. The brazen egocentric struck out and no doubt is nursing his ego this morning, convinced I must be mentally deficient for turning him down.

I despise dating. It’s exhausting, wading through banal conversations about the weather and your life plan. By the time I hit thirty-five, I knew within fifteen minutes, if a date had a snowball’s chance in hell of going anywhere.

With Zeke, it only took thirty seconds, but he prolonged the torture for hours.

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