Page 30 of Big Bad Single Wolf Dad

I am not some simpering buffoon. If I have competition for Sarah’s heart, I am more than capable of rising to the task and defeating anyone who might challenge me. But the question filling my mind is, do I want to? Is she keeping something from me? Is the sweet and kind woman I adore trying to play me for a fool?

I rejoin the children and sit on the couch, watching them all huddled on the floor too close to the television. I cannot give this up so easily.

I won’t.

“Dad? Are you okay?” Lily asks, always able to pick up every shift in mood. Noah and Mia also turn to check.

“I’m fine,” I reply, not sure if it’s the truth.

16

SARAH

Oh, I could get used to this. The enormous house echoes with the laughter of children. It fills my heart with so much warmth. Everyone is eating without complaint, they’re getting along, and every face is radiating joy.

Despite the chaos and noise, I feel at peace. And it’s all thanks to the man, or werewolf, sitting next to me. Greg has been so kind to share his home with me and my children, and I only hope he’s getting as much fulfillment from this as I am.

Based on his smile, I’d venture to say he is.

“Mom. Lily has a huge dollhouse and said I could bring my dolls next time we have a sleepover. Can I?” Mia looks at me with huge doe eyes. The kind she gives me when she believes her happiness is on the line.

I want to tell her yes, but I also don’t want to intrude on Greg’s family so blatantly. I take a bite of my breakfast to give him the chance to make up an excuse for why we can’t. But he doesn’t say a word. In fact, he looks like he wants the answer to be yes just as much as Mia and Lily do.

“I don’t see why not!” I reply.

Mia throws her arms in the air in celebration. “Yes! When are we coming over again?!”

All the kids are staring at me now, putting me on the spot. And once again, I want to give Greg the chance to interject. It’s his house, after all!

“Uh, well, that’s something Greg and I can discuss after breakfast,” I fumble. I look at Greg and give him a sassy wink. If he wants to call this off, the ball is in his court now. Something tells me he doesn’t.

After some more conversation and very silly playdate planning involving whose dolls get to have which career, breakfast is finished. It only takes a little cajoling to convince them to clean up their plates, but soon enough they’re all walking into the kitchen, and I sigh contentedly at the blessed moment of silence.

A minute of peace that’s interrupted by the chiming of a grandfather clock, and I realize how late in the morning it actually is.

“Oh my gosh, is that the time?” I gasp. I genuinely hadn’t thought to check. I need to get something into the office before noon today, and at this rate, I’ll be cutting it way too close.

“It is indeed,” Greg says forlornly. I feel awful and wish that I could spend all day curled up in his gigantic bed while our kids play with dolls and race cars.

“You have somewhere to be?” he asks.

“Yes. I mean, I’m not late, but I’m not sure I have time to run home and get changed.” My clothes smell like I spent all day outside, plus there’s a stain from a mis-squeezed juice box on my blouse. Not a great look for the office, even if it’s just for a moment.

Greg offers me his hand and guides me back toward his bedroom. “You can help yourself to my wardrobe if you wish. I’m sure there’s something in there that'd fit you,” he says kindly. I try not to laugh at the thought of his clothing on my frame. Maybe the juice stain would look better than a baggy suit! But I thank him for the offer regardless and decide to see for myself.

The closet is enormous and requires its own lightswitch to traverse. I casually wonder if there’s anything that belonged to his wife in here but wipe that from my mind. I don’t want to intrude on that memory unless I’m invited directly.

My phone chimes, and I pause to go grab it off the charger. If that’s my boss telling me not to worry, I’d certainly like to know!

I frown, seeing that it's just a marketing text from a grocery store about their amazing sales this week. But before I can lock my phone, it begins to ring with an unknown number.

I answer while walking back into the closet, ready to hang up if it sounds like a robot. But it might be someone from work or the kids’ school. Better to answer and find out.

“Hello?” I ask while trying to find the smallest button-up shirt on the rack.

“Good morning, darling.”

My blood turns ice-cold at the sound of Eric’s voice. He is the last person I want to think about right now.

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