Page 17 of The Maine Event

He smiles, but there’s a hint of sadness in his eyes. “Thanks. Appreciate it. It hasn’t been easy, doing it alone. After Rebecca passed, I wasn’t sure I could manage. But Chloe—she’s been my rock, my reason to keep going.”

I nod, sympathizing with his loss. “I can’t even imagine how difficult that must have been.”

Dan shrugs, staring out at the shimmering water. “We’ve found our way. I don’t always get it right, but it works. Although, I have to admit, I’m dreading the teenage years. But I guess I’ll cross that bridge…”

“When you’re forced to ground her for life?” I finish, smirking.

He laughs, shaking his head. “Something like that. They say it gets easier as they get older. It better, because some days I just want to tear my hair out.”

“My sister says my nieces have aged her ten years.”

“Sometimes it feels like that. I knew being a single dad would be hard, but I didn’t realize how relentless it would be. You don’t just have to be the provider—you’ve got to be the chef, the nurse, the chauffeur, the teacher… Sometimes I feel like I have half a dozen jobs, all rolled into one.”

I can tell he’s not really complaining—just being honest. “I guess you don’t get much time to yourself.”

He shakes his head with a rueful smile. “Not really. It’s rewarding, don’t get me wrong. Watching Chloe grow up… nothing compares. But it’s just so… exhausting. Sometimes I feel like I’m just keeping my head above water, making sure the right sports gear is in the right bag on the right day and that there’s a homemade healthy lunch that won’t get traded for a pack of peanut M&M’s. All while juggling laundry that somehow keeps multiplying and trying to figure out why certain foods are suddenly unacceptable when they were her favorite last week.”

I laugh, imagining the chaos of it all unfold. “I don’t know how you do it. Parenting sounds like the hardest—and most underappreciated—job in the world.”

Dan glances at me, the corners of his mouth lifting into a grateful smile. “Yeah. It kind of is. You don’t really understand it until you’re in it. Before Chloe, I thought I knew what hard work was. But it’s different when it’s your kid. There’s no clocking out. No quitting time. You just have to make it work because they’re counting on you.”

He pauses, almost like he’s catching himself before he says too much. I see it in his eyes—the fierce love, the unwavering commitment, but also that gnawing doubt that he’s not doing enough. I know the feeling. Different context, same fear.

“Sounds like you’re doing an amazing job,” I say softly, meaning it. “She’s happy. That says a lot.”

Dan glances over at me, his expression caught between surprise and something almost vulnerable. He doesn’t say anything, just nods, and the weight in the air softens just a little.

There’s a comfortable silence, just the rhythmic lapping of the waves filling the space. The air is cool, but not uncomfortably so under the heavy blanket, and for the first time in a long while, I feel… still. Not rushing to the next thing, not thinking three steps ahead. Just here.

Dan takes a sip of his drink, then tilts his head slightly. “What about you?”

I glance at him. “What about me?”

Dan takes a sip of his drink, then tilts his head slightly. “So, what do you do, Rachel?”

I glance over at him. “I’m in PR. Public relations.”

He nods slowly, like he’s turning the phrase over in his mind. “So you’re the person who makes things look good even when they’re falling apart?”

“Pretty much,” I say. “I tell stories for a living. Spin chaos into narrative. Make people and companies look polished, relatable, reliable—even when they’re anything but.”

Dan raises an eyebrow. “Sounds intense.”

“It can be.” I swirl my drink, watching the ice clink against the glass. “But it’s also kind of addictive. You get to shape perception. Influence the conversation. It’s like being the wizard behind the curtain.”

“And you enjoy that?”

I nod. “Most days. There’s something satisfying about taking a mess and turning it into something meaningful.”

Dan studies me for a moment, then gestures vaguely with his glass. “So is that what you always wanted to do? Be a wizard behind the curtain?”

I huff a laugh. “Not exactly. I didn’t even know PR was a real job until I was halfway through college.”

He grins. “Then what did younger Rachel want to be?”

“Honestly?” I pause, considering. “I just wanted… more.”

“More?”

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