Page 14 of Single Dad Dilemma

I offer a sad smile and nod.

“Margo doesn’t remember her much. She was so young. But she remembers some things and I tell her a ton, my way of trying to keep her memory alive, I guess.”

“That’s good of you to do. I noticed the photo on the mantel. Was that her?”

He nods. “Yeah, that was her.”

“She was beautiful.”

“She was,” he agrees softly, sadness drenching his words.

“Well, I should probably get back inside. If there’s anything you need, don’t be afraid to ask,” I tell him, meaning every word of it.

He nods, but I can see the sadness that’s settled over him now. He doesn’t respond as I make my way out of the garage and back into the house. Margo is still sound asleep on the couch, so I move over to the mantel to look at that picture a little more closely.

The woman in the photo has shoulder-length blond hair, styled in soft wavy curls. Her eyes are blue, bright and shimmering, and she’s wearing a wide smile. She really is beautiful, and she looks so happy with a baby Margo on her lap and Carson at her side.

I take a deep breath and head back into the kitchen to clean up from our lunch mess.

The rest of the day passes quickly. Margo wakes up, and we end up playing more dress up, watching TV, and having a snack. Around six, I decide to take dinner into my own hands, andshe volunteers to help. After searching through the fridge and cabinets, I find the ingredients I need to make a pot of spaghetti and some frozen garlic bread. I’m not much on jar sauce, but I don’t have enough fresh tomatoes to make it from scratch, so I do a half and half mix, using the jar stuff but adding my own ingredients to make it taste a little more homemade.

Margo and I have dinner together, then she goes upstairs to take her bath. While she’s cleaning up, I clean up the mess in the kitchen again and make a plate for Carson. I add some spaghetti, a piece of the garlic bread, and a small side salad. I wrap it up and put it all in the fridge.

I move to the living room to pick up our mess from the day and then to Margo’s room to put away all the toys we dragged out. When she gets out of the bath, I brush out her hair for her and braid it so it doesn’t get tangled in her sleep. Then we go back downstairs for a snack, juice, and story before bed.

Margo is the sweetest child, and she seems to want to please me. I never have to get on her for acting up or making an unnecessary mess. She’s the perfect little girl, and Carson couldn’t have done a better job with raising her. At eight, she claims that it’s bedtime, so I tuck her in and turn off the light. I turn the baby monitor on, planning on taking the other end to the garage so I can leave for the night.

I walk into the garage, and Carson is back at work. I set the monitor down. “Margo has been fed, bathed, and is in bed.”

“What?” he asks, looking at his watch. “Oh man. I lost track of time. I’m so sorry for keeping you here for so long.”

I wave him off. “It’s not a problem. I had fun today. She’s a great kid.”

“She really is. I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have her to keep me sane.”

“I made spaghetti, garlic bread, and a salad. I cleaned up, but I left you a plate in the fridge. You need to eat.”

His eyes go wide. “Wow. You cooked a whole meal? I feel bad now. I would’ve come in to eat with you guys, had I known.”

“It’s okay. Really, it’s no problem,” I assure him.

“Well, at least sit and have a drink with me. It’s the least I could do. You have time?” he asks, freezing on his way to the fridge.

I look at my watch. I’m usually in bed by now—bad side of owning a bakery, you have to get up before dawn—but why not? “Sure.”

He pulls two beers out of the fridge in the garage, opens them both, then he hands me one.

I take a long drink as my eyes find what looks to be the start of a boat. “What are you building here?”

“A sailboat,” he replies.

My brows raise in surprise. “Wow, you know how to do that?”

He laughs and nods. “Yeah, I grew up sailing. In the summers, my dad and I would build and repair boats. It’s sort of my fallback career—the whole point of moving here. I thought, if I still enjoyed doing it, I would open my own company.”

“And? Do you still enjoy doing it?”

He purses his lips together a moment before answering, “I do, actually. I’ve completely lost track of time today.”

---