And Polly and Becca were holding hands and giggling.
That dread he felt earlier hearing Celia’s voice. It was a magnifying glass on his skin with the hot sun eating a hole through him now.
The door opened and his daughter pulled Polly toward him.
“Daddy. I want Polly to see my new dollhouse. Can she come over and play?”
“I think that’d be a lovely idea,” Celia said, not attempting to hide the leisurely tour her eyes took over his body. He almost felt violated. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Polly?”
“Yes, please,” Polly said. “I want to see what Santa brought Becca.”
Fuck. He could say no and disappoint his daughter, or he could make the play date and get it over with.
Maybe Celia had to work this weekend and it’d be the best time to do it.
“How about a few hours on Saturday morning?” he said. “Becca takes a nap at one and we like to keep her on schedule.”
This put an end to anything longer in his mind. Any other parent would honor that.
But Celia didn’t come off as other parents that he’d seen.
“That would work out wonderfully,” Celia said. “I’ve got the day off and I’ll see if Asher can go to another one of his friends.”
Phew, then Celia would consider it a free morning for her. Even better.
“Then it works,” he said. “How about at eleven, and then I can feed the girls after?”
“Works for me,” Celia said, her eyes bright, her blue nails rubbing down his arm. “It will be fun to catch up.”
And that didn’t go the way he thought it was going to.
“What’s for dinner, Daddy?”
His mind was miles away, lost in a desperate plan to avoid Celia, and he completely missed his daughter’s footwear mishap. Her boots were on the wrong feet.
“I’m making chicken, mashed potatoes, and some veggie,” he said. Another easy air fryer meal. He was a pro at throwing marinated chicken breasts in and hitting a button to walk away. A package of mashed potatoes took three minutes tops in the microwave. Another few minutes with a bag of veggies and he was done.
He was going to have to step his game up at some point if he wanted to impress Alana, but satisfying a three-year-old appetite made it hard.
“I wouldn’t mind someone cooking for me one night,” Celia said. “It’s so hard when you’re the provider financially and of the home. Don’t you think it’s easier when it’s two people?”
“I’m sure it would be,” he said. “Ready, Becca?”
“Yep,” Becca said, lifting her arms. He carried her out if there was snow on the ground so she didn’t track a mess into the house he’d have to clean. That and any black ice that she might slip and fall on. Better safe than sorry.
It’s not like it was more than flurries, but he could walk faster if he held her too.
Celia was still waiting for Asher and Polly to finish dressing while she watched.
He got Becca in the car seat in the back, then jumped in the front and drove home.
All he could think of was Alana and how he was going to explain this to her.
The minute he was in the house and Becca was playing, he started on dinner, his mind exploring the best way to tell Alana that the woman he’d been on a date with when she was babysitting his daughter was going to be at his house on Saturday.
There was no way to sugarcoat something like that.
No reason to drag it out either.
