Page 19 of The Single Dad Dilemma

“Congratulations,” we all say nearly in unison.

“Yeah, we’ve been disagreeing over his name a lot lately,” he says. “She wants to include her dad somehow and I’m less enthused about that idea.”

“I’m sure you’ll work it out,” I say, sending him a meaningful smile I hope he can read.

Vanessa died in the hospital before we officially chose a name for Lou. We’d been talking about a few different options but still hadn’t nailed it down. She liked Mae; I liked Vanessa’s middle name, Louise. So in the end, I just put them together. It felt like the best option.

Avery wraps up and leaves pretty quickly after that. I’m sure he’s eager to get back to Helena. He’s mentioned more than once being eager to get back to tattooing. At his core, he’s just a guy who likes to stab people with needles in the name of art.

The other owner, Hawk, owns and works at the original location in Louisville, Kentucky, and he also has a manager. I think he much prefers doing the tattooing, like Avery, rather than being bogged down with operations stuff. More often, I’m doing less actual tattooing and more of other stuff.

I’ve won some awards for my tattoos. I’ve dominated conventions. Nothing is new or surprising anymore, so it’s okay that I do less tattooing. Honestly, I prefer it that way. And I can afford to be picky about the projects I take on.

I no longer do small, random tattoos that people walk in and get. I haven’t done a flash tattoo in ages either. A tattoo from me is an experience. The people who hire me are shelling out thousands, not hundreds. I’ve gone ten hours a day for three days straight to overhaul a full back piece. I’ve done full sleeves, whole legs, and the like.

At the conventions coming up, I’ve already scheduled clients with major pieces for display and submissions. I’m pretty excited about them. The only part I don’t really enjoy is the part the other guys love. And that’s all the women absolutely rabid for you. I don’t know why that happens, but I know if I ever needed a good fuck fest, the conventions are like shooting fish in a barrel.

And that’s not to say I don’t have the utmost respect for women. Or their choice to be sexually free. Like, you go, girl, you know? But it’s not my thing anymore. I cannot say the same thing for twenty-three-year-old me. I certainly had my fun.

Fun. God, do you know how long it’s been since I’vefunnedanyone? Truth be told, there are days I’m willing to just give in and let someone use me for all their fun. I should really stop using the word fun in place of fuck. It’s gonna confuse me later.

TEN

DARCY

When Lou told me she wanted to go see the fish at the pet store, it struck me as a piece-of-cake activity. But twenty minutes ago, she started hinting that we should get a pet. And then ten minutes ago, the hinting became a lot more intense. And then five minutes ago, she started begging.

“Didn’t you let the fish at your daycare go free?” I ask. “Are you wanting to free them?”

“I only let them go free because they spent the weekends and all night alone,” she says. “The teacher only took care of them when she was at school and that’s not nice.”

Oh. Damn, I thought that would work in my favor.

“Shouldn’t we ask your dad?”

“Well, a long time ago, he said I could probably have one. That means yes. And it’s just a little fish anyway.” She says this with just enough confidence that I believe her.

“So you really want a fish?”

“Well, no. What I really want is a bunny, but I think the fish will be a good pet to start with to learn the responsibility of having a pet,” she says.

She’s really thought this through. Why does it feel like I’m talking to a mature, level-headed adult? Is she related to Sheldon Cooper? Okay, okay, let me think.

I stare at the fish for a few moments, weighing my options.He did give me money for entertainment. He didn’t expressly say not to get her a fish. I don’t think she’s lying to me about his saying she could probably have one. If it was a long time ago, maybe he was waiting for her to be older. Man, this is a lot of thinking.

“Okay, let’s do it,” I say. “But if you’re dad is upset and doesn’t want you to have it, you have to promise you won’t be upset. And I’ll take the fish to my house.” A fish doesn’t seem like the worst thing for my place. And it’s just a fucking fish so Lyric won’t mind.

“You have a deal,” she says, reaching her hand out to shake mine.

I shake her little hand and then say, “Now, which one should we get?”

We got two fish. Lou made the excellent point that they need companionship and should not be forced to live in solitude. So we got two of the big fat Goldfish with buggy bubble eyes. One is mostly orange with a white patch. The other is solid black. The bug eyes are a little weird but they’re far too cute to be considered creepy.

Together we cleared a space on one of her nightstands, put together the little fish tank, filled it with rocks, water, and plastic plants, and then—at the advice of the cashier at the pet store—placed the bag in the water so the fish could acclimate to the tank first.

She’s been checking on them every fifteen minutes just to make sure they’re okay. No one could ever accuse that girl of not caring.

“Okay, it’s time to put them in the tank!” I jump up from the couch and she follows suit, hopping up from the floor where she was coloring. She runs toward her room and I trail behind.

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