Page 22 of Single Dad Dilemma

I wake feeling rested in the morning, and I go straight to the bathroom to shower. I undress and turn on the water. I shave while it warms up and then step inside. The moment I do, I think about yesterday, and that leads me to think about last night. I let out a groan, annoyed with myself. Why did I go and do that? She’s going to avoid me now, and Margo isn’t going to understand. I guess all I can do is see how it plays out and hope that she’s a good enough person to not punish my daughter for my mistakes.

I’m making coffee in the kitchen when Margo walks in, rubbing her eyes. “Dad, breakfast?”

I pour my coffee and turn to her. “What would you like?”

“Can we get donuts?”

I shake my head once. “Not today.”

She rolls her dark eyes. “Pancakes,” she finally says, turning to go to the living room.

I pull out the box of frozen pancakes and throw a couple on a plate to put in the microwave. While they heat up, I pour her a glass of milk and get out the syrup. I cut them up for her using a pizza cutter and then drizzle the syrup on top.

“Margs, breakfast,” I call out. She knows that with sticky syrup, it has to be eaten at the table, so she doesn’t argue as she walks in and goes to eat. I pick up my coffee and take a sip as I look out the window at the lake. It’s a beautiful, sunny day. Not a cloud in the sky.

“Will I get to see Violet today?” she asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

“I don’t know,” I answer truthfully. “We can’t live on baked goods, Margo. We’ll be fat and unhealthy.”

She smirks. “You’ll be fat. I’ll be fine,” she insists.

“Either way, we’re not going there every day. I have some work to do in the garage, so eat up.”

I don’t have to see her to know that she’s rolling her eyes.

The rest of the day is spent in the garage, getting some work done while Margo plays in her little corner. When we go back inside, Margo gets a bath while I cook dinner, then we have a quiet night at home.

Days pass.I haven’t been to the bakery, and Violet hasn’t randomly shown up here. The more time that passes, the more awkward I feel about how I left things. I wish we would’ve talked before she left, but I think we were both so surprised by the sudden turn of events that we didn’t even have our thoughts put together yet. On Friday, I finally work up the courage to go to the bakery.

We walk in and Margo runs up to the case, looking over the selection. I hang out in the back, since Violet must be in the kitchen, leaving the register to her staff member. Margo picks out her donut and then I order a coffee. I pay at the register, and as I knew she would, Margo asks for Violet.

“She’s in the kitchen. You want me to get her?” the woman asks, and Margo’s head bobs up and down quickly.

She sticks her head in the swinging door, and moments later, Violet walks out, a look of surprise on her face. She rights it quickly, putting on a smile for Margo. “Hi, Margo. What are you doing here? Oh, you got your Friday donut, huh?”

Margo smiles and nods. “Where you been? Why hasn’t you come over again?” Her little brows furrow together.

“I’m sorry, I’ve just been really busy. And I have to get up super early so I can’t stay out late—like, super early.”. I’m here before the sun is even up.”

Margo’s eyes stretch wide, unable to imagine it. “What about dinner? You come for dinner tonight? Daddy will cook and you can play with me.”

She smiles, but her eyes flash to me like she’s not sure how to answer.

But this could be the perfect time to talk to her about what happened between us the last time, so I say, “Yeah, that’s a good idea, Margo.” I look up at Violet. “Violet, would you please come over for dinner tonight? I’ll order in and won’t subject you to my poor cooking skills.”

She laughs but nods. “Okay. What time?”

“Six?”

She agrees, and I somehow manage to draw Margo away from Violet.

The moment we walk out of the bakery, the anxiety kicks in. What should I order? What does she like? I don’t know why, butI want to impress her. Maybe I should just stick with something easy that everyone likes, like pizza.

When we get home, Margo runs off to play, and I get busy with cleaning up the house, wanting it to look and smell nice for Violet tonight. Again, I remind myself about what I’ve decided. Margo is too important, and I refuse to take Violet from her. I won’t touch her again. I can’t ruin this. Hopefully, Violet is on the same page.

I get online and order two large pizzas, an order of hot wings, and some cheesy bread along with a desert pizza for Margo. Just before six, the doorbell rings, and Margo runs for it with me following behind her. She throws it open and screams, “Violet!”

Violet giggles and bends down to hug her. I stand back, staring at her beauty. She’s wearing a short pair of cutoffs. The bottoms are frayed, and they look to be ripped and torn up, the small holes through the material giving me flashes of skin. She’s wearing a white T-shirt with some saying on the front and a pair of Chuck Taylor sneakers. Her long tan legs tease me. Her hair is pulled into a high ponytail, not framing her face like usual. I love the look of her sharp jaw and high cheekbones, not to mention her slender neck. I wet my lips and chant in my head,You can’t touch her. You can’t touch her. You can’t touch her.

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