Page 16 of Single Dad Dilemma

I eat every last bit of food, unable to stop. By the time the plate is clean, I’m unable to move I’m so stuffed. It’s been a long time since I’ve eaten like that. Years. Since…Kate. I never cook real food. Maybe that’s something I should do. Take some classes so that I can at least feed Margo a little better. That kid lives off frozen chicken nuggets, mac and cheese, and SpaghettiO’s.

Full and tired, I end up passing out on the couch. I’m surprised when Margo is waking me up in the morning. “Daddy, breakfast,” she demands, shaking my arm.

“Alright, alright,” I agree, pushing myself up to sit. I rest my elbows on my knees and hang my head as I try to wake up. She just shoves her way up onto the couch, grabs the remote, and flips until she finds cartoons.

As the sounds of SpongeBob play through the speakers, I get up and head to the kitchen. I pour her a glass of milk like usual, but then decide to try my hand out in preparing something that isn’t frozen. I grab some eggs and whip them up to make scrambled eggs.

While I wait for them to start cooking, I throw a couple of pieces of bread into the toaster. When I turn around, the eggs are sticking to the pan, brown on one side. I quickly stir, hoping that it isn’t too far gone. Of course, I forget about the toast, and it pops up on its own, both sides black as can be. I grab the butter knife, scraping the black off until it looks normal.

I throw everything onto a plate, but even I have to admit it doesn’t look appealing. “Margo, breakfast is done,” I call, hoping she doesn’t notice.

She walks into the kitchen with her milk and sits at the table. I put her plate down in front of her, and her nose wrinkles. “What’s this mess?”

I almost laugh but hold it back. “It’s toast and scrambled eggs, just like you eat at Mama and Papa’s.”

She picks up the toast and lays it back down after looking at it carefully. “This isn’t like Mama’s.”

“Just taste it. It’s good.”

She takes a bite of the toast. “Blah. It taste burnt.”

“Fine. Try the eggs.”

She takes a bite and chews slowly. “Why are they crunchy? Mama’s eggs are soft.”

“Fine,” I say, taking the plate. “I’ll get you some cereal.”

She spins around in the chair to watch me. “We could go get donuts, you know?”

“No, we can’t go there and bother her every day. She has to work, Margo.”

She frowns. “But she likes us, Daddy.”

I smile. “She likes you, Margo,” I tell her as I pour some Cheerios into a bowl.

“No, she likes you too. She told me.”

I freeze. “What did she tell you?” I ask.

“That she likes you. Duh!” She rolls her dark eyes dramatically.

“What else did she say?” I feel bad pumping my five-year-old for information, but that doesn’t stop me. I pour milk into the bowl and take it to the table.

Margo turns and sits upright, grabbing the spoon and taking a big bite. “She said that you’re nice and a good daddy. She said you were cute too.” She giggles.

“She said I was cute?” I ask, confused as to why she would say that to a child.

She nods. “Yep. She said that I was lucky to have such a good daddy and I said,do you think he’s cute?And she said,of course he’s cute, where do you think you get it?Then she messed up my hair.” She takes another bite, and I can’t help but to smile to myself.

I wonder if she’s really attracted to me or if it was just something she felt she had to say to Margo’s question. Surely, the latter. But she did kiss me back so maybe not. Either way, it doesn’t matter, I remind myself. No matter how badly I want her, I can’t let it happen. For Margo’s sake.

I push away the excitement that fills my body. “Eat up. We’ve got some time to spend in the garage today.”

“Ugh, Dad,” she complains.

I laugh. “Sorry, kiddo, but you got out of it yesterday and I have some work to do.”

“Ugh,” she groans, rolling her eyes again.

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