Page 41 of Single Dad's Fake Bride
I hadn't done this in years.
Not since before Eloise was born, when the idea of bringing someone home still felt natural instead of impossible.
After she came along, dating became a series of careful calculations—when, where, how much to reveal, how to protect her from the inevitable disappointment when things ended.
It was easier to focus on work, on raising her, on building the quiet life we'd created together, and inevitably, I gave up.
But Sadie was different.
She already knew Eloise.
Already cared about her.
It made it easier in some ways and raised the stakes in other ways.
Still, all of that and the emotional turmoil in my chest took a back burner to the fact that I had a relatively short time to attempt to find and wed a woman just to save a school my daughter called home.
The doorbell rang, and I wiped my hands on a dish towel before opening it.
Sadie stood on my front step wearing a simple blue dress and a cardigan, her hair down for once instead of pulled back in the neat bun she wore at school.
She looked beautiful and nervous and completely out of place on my doorstep.
"Hi," she said, holding up a plate of brownies. "I wasn't sure what you were making, so I brought something safe."
"Thanks." I took the plate and stepped aside to let her in. "Dinner's almost ready."
It was thoughtful of her to bring something, but it only made me more nervous.
I shut the door and awkwardly started for the kitchen and realized after several strides that I hadn't invited her to follow.
But she followed me into the kitchen anyway, her eyes taking in the space.
"This is nice. Very… you."
"Clean and boring?"
"Organized. Thoughtful."
She ran her fingers along the edge of the counter.
"Eloise's artwork is everywhere."
She was right.
Eloise's drawings covered the refrigerator, her school projects lined the windowsill, and her library books were stacked on the kitchen table.
The house might have looked sterile to some people, but every surface held evidence of my daughter's presence.
"She's the center of everything here," I told her as I walked to the counter and opened the drawer, pulling out the wine bottle opener.
"I can see that." Sadie's voice was soft. "It's lovely."
I poured her a glass of wine—the expensive bottle I'd bought specifically for tonight—and watched her take a sip.
Her eyebrows went up slightly.
"This is really good," she said. "And probably costs more than I spend on groceries in a week."
