Page 24 of Daddy's Accidental Babies

He, better than anyone else in my life, knew I was a good, decent man. A man worthy of dating his very adult, very capable daughter. And that was exactly what I’d say when we stood face-to-face.

11

SAVANNAH

Iwoke before the alarm. I hadn’t heard a noise or had a dream. My body simply refused to let me rest. The jolt into consciousness had my heart beating a bit too quickly. The room was dim, the gray light of morning just starting to stretch across the floor. Leo and Cal were curled into separate corners of the bed, buried under mismatched blankets, after waking in the middle of the night to bad dreams. Of course I let them sleep in my bed.

I slid out carefully, not wanting to wake them. The hardwood was cold under my feet as I padded to the kitchen and turned on the coffee maker. I enjoyed the silence of mornings, but this morning it felt sadder than most. I stared at the counter while the coffee brewed, rubbing the back of my neck and willing my thoughts to stop spinning.

By the time the first cup was poured, I was already halfway through running the day’s to-do list in my head. I took a long sip and leaned against the sink, watching the early traffic crawl between the neighboring buildings. My fingers tapped against the ceramic without rhythm.

But as usual the quiet didn’t last. The boys stirred in the other room about the same time I heard Thea’s shower turn on, and my quiet moment was interrupted by little voices.

“Mommy,” Cal called as he shuffled in, his voice still thick with sleep. “I had that dream again. The one with the big bird.”

He rubbed at one eye and yawned wide, then climbed onto a kitchen stool with a thump. “Is it breakfast yet? I’m hungry-hungry.”

Leo stomped in next, arms crossed, hair sticking up like he’d fought his pillow all night. “We’ve got no good cereal,” he grumbled, not even looking at me. “I don’t want the circles. They taste like cardboard.”

“You should say, ‘We don’t have any good cereal,” I corrected, and reached for bowls from the cupboard to get them something to eat. I poured the cereal and milk, setting the bowls in front of them one at a time. Cal reached for the milk himself, tipping it awkwardly over his bowl with both hands and I lunged forward. “Cal,” I said sharply, catching the carton before it emptied and grabbing a towel to wipe the table before the milk reached the edge. “Keep the milk in your mouth, not on the counter.”

He grinned without remorse. “It was just a little splash.” His shoulder bobbed and I rolled my eyes as I dried up his spill.

“It went in my hair!” Leo shouted, pushing back from the table. “You did it on purpose!” I looked at his hair but saw no milk and noticed the trail of drool from Leo’s mouth to his hair where he pointed. “I’m telling.”

“Boys,” I chided with a soft grin. “Just focus on breakfast, alright?” I ruffled Leo’s hair and carried the milk carton and soggy towel to the other counter, safely out of reach.

“I need a spoon!” Leo demanded and I tensed. Both of them had been going through this phase of being demanding and loud. At times I wished they had a father to help, but the instantthat thought rose up, I squashed it. I couldn’t handle where the emotions would lead me right now.

“Leo…” I returned to his side with a spoon. “Here, this one has the blue handle. You like this one, remember?”

“It’s not the same!” he wailed, but he took it anyway, sniffling as he stirred his cereal. And I walked away to keep my sanity.

I packed their lunches as they ate, sliding sandwiches into bags and tucking in apple slices while they bickered over which cartoon was better. I scribbled notes on napkins, hunted for a missing sock under the couch, and negotiated a last-minute shirt change that didn’t lead to a full meltdown.

Thea appeared just in time to help me get them out the door to the bus, hair a mess, eyes barely open. She groaned and reached for the coffee. “I’d trade a kidney for ten more minutes of sleep,” she muttered, popping the lid on a travel mug. “Are they feral or is it just Monday?”

I chuckled at her sense of humor and said, “Monday—but don’t forget I have that meeting today so I can’t get them after school.”

Her eyebrows rose, but she didn’t protest. “Meeting?” she questioned, and I shied away from answering.

“They get out early today, remember.” I darted to the counter and picked up the milk, putting it back in the fridge, then turned and said, “And ask their teacher about their hearing and vision screening. It’s supposed to be done today too.”

“Blah, blah… You act like I haven’t mothered them as much as you have, Savannah. Take a breath.” Thea sipped from her mug and wagged her eyebrows. “Have fun at your ‘meeting.’ Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

I scowled, but she snickered and it broke the tension. Together, we wrangled the boys into shoes, coats, and backpacks. I crouched and kissed both of them as they squirmedinto jackets. “Be nice to your teachers. Share your snacks. No wrestling in the hallway.”

“But what if someone else starts it?” Cal asked, already halfway out the door.

“Then don’t finish it,” I called after him, smiling as Thea gave me a knowing look and ushered them out.

As the door clicked shut behind them, the silence returned to my tiny apartment, but not to my heart. It’d been one week since that “date” with Dominic. He’d been so sweet to me, asking about my day and asking about Dad. I sank onto a stool in the kitchen and rubbed one temple while I nursed the coffee in my other hand. If he only would’ve asked me to date him six years ago before the boys were born, maybe we’d have had a chance.

I knew it was reckless, that I was risking my heart with this fake-relationship bit, and in the end I would probably regret it. But I kept telling myself that as long as it was in the best interest of my job, I had to do it. The merger needed to go through, and the board had all but hired me to make sure the PR was there for Knight Holdings to take possession. I couldn’t just not do my job. The problem was I also couldn’t keep my heart in check around Dominic.

I checked my phone. One new message.

Dad 8:57 AM:We need to talk. In person.

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