Page 51 of Sawyer

I’m finally able to calm down Ella after I change her and get her buckled into her car seat. Climbing into my own seat, I start the ignition and crank the heat. Then I crank up some Johnny Cash.

I think about Ava the whole way home.

* * *

“Please. Please, Ella, put on your shirt.” I hold up a sweatshirt dotted with sequined unicorns, the gathered collar pulled open in my hands. “I’ve already asked you three times to get dressed. We’re gonna be late for our playdate at the park with June!”

Pouting, Ella rolls onto her stomach on the floor. She’s naked, save for a pair ofPeppa Pigunderwear. “But I don’t wanna go to the playdate.”

I grit my teeth, taking a sharp inhale through my nose.She’s just feeling her feelings. You lose your shit, she’s going to eventually learn to hide those feelings from you.“You had the best time ever with Junie yesterday.”

“I don’t remember.”

Mule, my dog, gives me eyes from his spot in the sunny hallway outside Ella’s room.

“Care to help?” I ask him.

He turns his head and sighs in reply.

I don’t know who’s more traumatized by mornings, him or me. Ella fights me on every damn thing. She asks for oatmeal for breakfast, so I make it from scratch and hide some ground chia and flax seeds in it for extra protein. I also add a good bit of butter and brown sugar. It’s fucking delicious. But when I set a bowl in front of her, she refuses to eat.

She says she loves unicorns, but when it’s time to put on the unicorn shirt we picked out together, she whines about not wanting to get dressed.

Don’t get me started on going potty or putting on her shoes. You’d think I was pulling out the kid’s fingernails judging by how she thrashes when I so much as attempt to make her pee before we leave. And brushing her teeth?

I shudder just thinking about it.

The only thing getting me through is the fact that I get to see Ava. I leaped out of bed like a spring fucking chicken earlier, more excited—more nervous—than I’d been in a while. Yeah, I’ve already downed several cups of coffee. But I have a pep in my step that wasn’t there yesterday.

Still, when Ella picks up a purple Magna-Tile piece and chucks it across the room, it’s all I can do not to yell.

“No throwing, please,” I manage through gritted teeth. “I understand you don’t want to get dressed, but your new friend is waiting for you. I promise you’ll be glad you put your shirt on.”

“Noooo! I’m not going, Daddy. Please let me stay with you today.”

“You are staying with me. We’re going to the parktogether.”

My phone vibrates in my pocket. I know without looking it’s one of my brothers. Probably Wyatt, because he’s the new foreman and he’s always looking for help with a task somewhere on the ranch.

I feel a potent stab of guilt. While I know my brothers don’t expect me to answer on a weekend, it still kills me not to be the one to ride to the rescue.

Growing up, I knew I’d never be the smartest, or the best-looking, or the funniest. But I could be the one who always showed up. The one who cared the most, and who paid the most attention. That shit’s important when it comes to family.

So, yeah. It’s been tough juggling that role with my role as a single dad. While I’m technically a full-time employee and part owner of Lucky River Ranch, and I get paid the same as my brothers to help run our massive cattle operation, I definitely work less than them.

Much less. All four of my brothers are usually on horseback well before five a.m. on weekdays, and on most weekends too. But I’m not able to join in until Monday, when either my part-time nanny arrives at eight or after preschool drop-off at around nine thirty.

Then there are all the days I miss because Ella’s sick, or my nanny is sick, or I’m sick because, well, my house is one giant petri dish. Don’t forget about the work I miss because of doctor appointments, and occupational therapy appointments for Ella’s poop issues, andshitI keep forgetting to find a pediatric dentist …

My phone vibrates again. My stomach twists. Ella wails. I close my eyes.

Mom. Dad. I really wish you were here to tell me what to do. To tell me that it gets better. I’m trying, but I always feel like I’m messing up. I miss you. So fucking much.

How did they make parenthood look so easy? Rationally, I know it wasn’t easy at all. Not by a long shot. Hell, they hadfive kids.All boys at that. But what I remember most is them bringing real joy to the roles as mother and father. They were happy, so we were happy.

Opening my eyes, I see that Ella has snuck out to the hallway and is giving Mule a hug that looks more like a headlock. Thank God he’s chill. I debated for a long time whether or not I could handle keeping yet another living thing alive. But I felt so guilty about Ella not having any siblings, and research points to kids getting a boost of self-esteem when they have pets.

So a couple of years ago, we brought Mule home from a shelter. It was love at first sight for Ella. For him? Meh, not so much. But he tolerates her, which I’ll take.

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