The Single Dad

PROLOGUE

FORD

I

was woken by the sound of an alarm. It took me a few moments to shake the sleep from my head until I realized it was coming from my front gate-a notification that someone was at the call box, trying to get in. The only time the alarm ever went off in the middle of the night was if I invited a woman over. Her presence anticipated, my hands stripping off her clothes the moment she walked through my door, my lips devouring every inch of her skin before she reached my bedroom.

But it was three in the morning, and I hadn't invited anyone over.

I sat up, turning on the bedside light, and grabbed the tablet from my nightstand, the screen showing a woman, wrapped in a dark coat, standing in front of my call box.

I enlarged the camera feed, zooming in on her face.

She was vaguely familiar, not enough that I could recall her name.

"Hello?" I said into the speaker. "Can I help you?"

"Ford ... I need to talk to you."

I wasn't surprised she knew my name. She was pressing the button on the metal box on the side of my gate, attempting to gain my attention, so I would hope she knew who I was.

It was the urgency in her voice that startled me.

I ran my hand over my hair. The gel I had put in right before meeting my brothers for drinks caused the strands to be hard, cemented in place. "What do you need to talk to me about?"

"You ... me." She paused. "It's important." Another beat passed and then, "Please, open the gate."

I shook my head even though she couldn't see me.

Our law firm's private plane was flying me to Minneapolis in just a few hours to meet with a client. I needed sleep.

"Can you come back? Let's say, Saturday afternoon at a normal time, and we can-"

"No, Ford, I can't. Please. I'm begging you. We need to talk now."

Goddamn it.

I sighed, "I'll meet you outside."

I pressed the button that would allow her in and forced myself out of bed, throwing on a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt, walking through my house toward the front. I flipped on the outside light and opened the door. The woman was standing a few feet from the steps with a face I still only semi-recognized, a body that couldn't be seen in the baggy clothes and long, unbuttoned coat. There was a bag that hung from her shoulder and a strange, misplaced bundle of blankets in her arms.

"I'm sorry, you are?"

"Rebecca."

Rebecca. Rebecca.

My eyes squinted as I took in her stare. "You're the bartender at-"

"Yes."

The night we'd had together was starting to come back to me.

Was it six months ago? Ten months? A year even? I couldn't recall.

But the more I gazed at her, more from the evening we'd spent together began to unfold in my head.

As I'd been sitting at the bar, alone, it had begun as a simple flirtation. That led to us speaking the entire night, and I followed her into the back room once the last patron left. The moment the door was locked, I held her against the wall, slamming my lips against hers.

I'd fingered her while she drove us to my place.

I'd spread her across my kitchen island the minute we got inside.

Even if the whiskey had made the details of that night a bit vague, I could still recount the major parts.

"Why are you here, Rebecca?"

She glanced down at her arms, holding the weightless blankets in an odd way. "I don't know how to tell you this ... but she's yours."

"She?" I walked to the end of the small porch, my bare feet balancing on the edge. "What are you talking about?"

She moved closer, holding the blankets toward me, adjusting her position so she could open one and show me what was inside.

It wasn't a bundle.

It was a baby.

She.

I put my hands up in the air. "Whoa, whoa." I swallowed, my saliva suddenly tasting like acid. "There's no way."

"No way?" she mocked. "You mean, exactly forty weeks ago, you didn't have sex with me without a condom, not bothering to ask if I was on birth control? By the way, I wasn't."

Forty weeks.

That was a fucking eternity ago.

But did I really not use a condom?

I always used one.

Fucking always.

Had the whiskey made me careless?

It ... was possible.

"I ..."

"I realize you probably sleep with so many women that you can't keep them all straight." Her voice softened. "But that's not the case with me, Ford. There was only you." She looked down again. "And now, because of that night, we created her." As she moved once more, now only a foot separated us, even less as she extended her arms across the open space. "Meet your daughter. She was born three days ago." She lowered the blanket, showing me the baby's round face, eyes closed with long, dark lashes that fluttered against her cheeks, like she was dreaming.

What?

I'm a fucking ...

Father?

A feeling catapulted through my stomach.

A feeling I hadn't been prepared for, a feeling that sucked all the breath out of my body.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Our eyes locked as she said, "Because, at first, I had no intention of keeping her." A war of emotion was raging inside her eyes. "I made the appointment. I went to the clinic." She took a long, deep inhale. "And I couldn't do it." She glanced down, but not at her daughter. She looked at the ground instead. "I just ... couldn't."

My hands shook; my knees didn't want to hold me up. "That was months ago, I assume. Yet you waited until now to show up. Why? I don't fucking get it." I took in the baby's face, those chunky cheeks and plump, heart-shaped lips. "Why didn't you tell me the second you found out you were pregnant, Rebecca? Why didn't you tell me once you went to the doctor and had it confirmed? You've had forty weeks"-I sucked in some air-"forty goddamn weeks-and you're here now? After?"

Does she want money? Is that why she showed up out of nowhere?

Is it something else?

My thoughts weren't straight.

My head a cloudy mess of questions.

My chest a steady, relentless ache.

Rebecca pressed the baby against my stomach.

I immediately reacted, cupping my arms beneath her, taking the weight of this small, precious bundle, holding her so carefully that I didn't wake her.

Rebecca took a step back and said, "The truth is, I never intended to tell you about her. I was just going to give her up for adoption, and you would have never even known she was born."

I held the baby tighter, tilting her toward my chest. "What made you change your mind?"

"The social worker. I didn't trust her and decided I wanted better for the baby." She nodded toward my arms. "She wrapped her arms around our daughter, and I took her back." Her eyes were getting misty. "It wasn't right."

"I don't understand." My head shook as I tried to process what I was hearing. "What are you saying?"

"I don't want her, Ford. I want you to have her, raise her. Be the parent she needs. The parent I can't be to her." The tears started to well in her eyes. "You'll be so much better than me." She placed the bag on my shoulder and wrapped her arms around her still-swollen belly. "After today, you'll never see me again."

I glanced between Rebecca and the baby. "Let's go inside and talk about this. I'm sure you're just exhausted and-"

"I never wanted her, Ford. My feelings haven't changed now that she's born." She held her hand out as though she was stopping me from coming closer. "Either you take her or I'm calling the social worker in the morning." With her other hand, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a card. "I kept her information." Tears now dripped down her cheeks.

"Rebecca, you need to give me a minute to process this." I looked at the baby again, my brain not computing that I was holding my child in my arms. I tried to connect the pieces of her that resembled me. The eyes? Nose? I couldn't think; I couldn't even breathe. "It's the middle of the night; you woke me out of a dead sleep. You're leaving me with a baby." I swallowed. "My baby." When I looked at Rebecca, the tears were wetting her lips. "I don't know what to do. What to think. How to care for her. I have questions. I have ..."

I wanted to take Rebecca by the arm and bring her into my house and tuck her into the bed in my guest room, giving her the sleep she needed. I would call a therapist in the morning, so we could figure out exactly what was going on here.

But those were just ideas, and all I had in this moment were words. Words that needed to be persuasive enough that I could convince her we could somehow do this-together. So far, it seemed like nothing I'd said was registering. She wasn't hearing me; she certainly wasn't listening.

She was just looking at the baby, crying.

"Rebecca, I'm sure it's been almost impossible to get any sleep. You're tired, your body is recovering from-"

"Don't tell me how I'm feeling." She pulled the sides of her jacket together, the material too small on her to close. "I know exactly what I've gone through and what I want, and my mind is made up."

Our stare broke as she looked at her daughter, using the back of her hand to wipe the newest tears. "I failed you ... I'm sorry." Her voice wasn't any louder than a whisper. "Your father will be everything you ever need."

"What? Wait! Rebecca," I called for her as she turned around and walked toward the gate. "You're her mother. You can't just hand her to me and tell me you don't want her, and she's suddenly my responsibility."

Her stare intensified. "You're her dad. Yes, I can."

I held the baby toward her mother, trying to close the space between us, but at the same time, she was moving in the opposite direction. "Rebecca, we need to talk about this, rationally. We need-"

"Everything you need is in that bag. Birth certificate; a form from the attorney, giving you all parental rights; formula, bottles, and diapers. Notes for what you need for her and when to feed her." She turned her back to me, taking several more steps, but looked over her shoulder to add, "Take care of her, Ford."

She hurried out of the gate, and she was gone.

Fuck.

Me.

As though the little one had heard my thoughts, she started to stir. I instantly froze, having no idea what the fuck to do.

Shit.

Is she going to cry?

Is she hungry?

Does she need to be changed?

"Waaah!" the baby wailed.

I didn't know how to make her stop or figure out the reason she was crying-I'd never been around a baby before-but she was getting louder.

Much, much louder.

"Rebecca!" I yelled, trying to look through the hedges for a flash of headlights. "Rebecca, come back!"

While I waited for her to return, I rocked my arms, hoping the movement would help, establishing a pattern of swinging forward and back.

She didn't calm.

She only cried harder, each sway filling my ears with more, "Waaah!"

My eyes shifted between the entrance of the driveway to the baby. But the longer I stood here, expecting Rebecca to round the corner at any second, the more I realized she wasn't coming back.

"What am I going to do?"

I gazed at the baby as she screamed in my arms. Her lips, so miniscule, were curled, showing her bare gums, her cheeks scrunched and red from all the crying.

"I don't know what to do," I told her. "I don't know how to make you feel better. Until I can figure out what time it is and wake your grandma up and have her come over here, I need to somehow care for you." I continued to look at her, hoping the answer would come to me. "Are you cold?" I closed the blanket, bunching it up to her neck. "Hungry?"

I waited for the answer to hit me.

For the realization of what I was actually holding and what my eyes were staring at.

For a picture to form in my head of what my life was now going to look like versus the direction I'd believed it was going in.

I didn't know how long I stood there.

Frozen.

My feet should have been taking us inside, where it was warm, where I could go through the bag and see if there was something in there that could soothe her, see if Rebecca's notes told me how to stop the baby's crying.

But they weren't moving.

For some reason ... I was locked.

My knees didn't want to hold us anymore, and they started to bend until they hit the pavement, the sharp slap of hardness jolting something inside me.

I held the baby up to my chest, patting her back. As I rubbed small circles, my body shifting, swinging, a feeling entered. I didn't understand it. I didn't know what it was, but it made me hold her tighter.

It made my arms build a wall where nothing could get in.

"Hey, hey," I whispered into her face. The heat from her crying thick like steam. "I know you don't know my voice or the feel of my arms, but I'm going to tell you something." I pressed my lips against her forehead, breathing her in, her scent so clean and powdery. "I'm never going to let anything happen to you." I held my lips there, my eyes closing, my heart pounding away. "I promise."

FORD

I sat on the edge of Everly's fluffy pink bed, holding her heavy, long, freshly washed curls in my hands so she wouldn't feel the tangles as I brushed them. Hair time followed bath time-a ritual we did every night.

"Here I go. Wish me good luck," I said.

She snorted. "Good luck, Daddy."

With her wet hair all combed, I separated it into three sections, starting the painful process of weaving. "I swear, your hair gets thicker and harder to braid every day."

"It's 'posed to be easy. You been doing it foreveeer."

I laughed at her remark. "Cut your old man some slack, little one. Hair isn't my specialty."

Braids were something I still couldn't grasp. Even though I applied equal tightness to each layer, maintaining a steady pattern, it always came out fucked up.

Crooked. Partially unbound.

But I tried.

I tied the elastic around the bottom and kissed her cheek. "I survived."

"Barely."

I shook my head. "I think you're going to be a comedian when you grow up."

"No, Daddy. I'm going to be an animal doctor-you know this." She turned around and faced me, wiggling her body until her back was against the pillows. The moment she was settled, she pointed to her right. "Now, their turn since you won't be here to kiss them good night."

The stuffed animals.

All twelve of them, taking up an entire side of her bed, which had to be arranged in a specific order and pecked or she wouldn't go to sleep.

A task, like her hair, that had become one of my favorite parts of the day.

I reached across her to line them up, making sure they were balanced and upright, just how she liked them. I finished by placing the lion in front of the pack and asked, "How's it look, boss?"

"The hippo doesn't go in back. I tell you that every night. She needs to be in the front by the giraffe."

"Right, right." I moved the hippo to the side, straightening the pink skirt we'd bought for the animal, and then adjusted the pink tie that hung from the giraffe's neck. "How's that?"

"Muuuch better. Now, kiss each one good night."

"Each one?"

"Daaaddy, they'll have bad dreams if we don't kiss them and say I love you."

"Whatever you say. You're the boss." I quickly pecked the animals and stopped when I reached my baby's forehead, where I left my lips as I said, "Are you going to be a good girl for Hannah when she watches you tonight?"

"Of course, silly."

The words that came out of this four-year-old's mouth constantly made me chuckle.

"I'm the silly one?" I tickled her belly. "I think you hold that title, Miss Eve."

She snorted. "I'm always a good girl, Daddy."

"You are. Most of the time." I tucked a loose strand behind her ear. "You know, I'm going to be with Uncle D and Uncle Jenner tonight."

Dominick and Jenner weren't just my older brothers and best friends; they were like second fathers to my daughter.

She crossed her arms and pouted. "Tell them I'm mad at them."

"Mad?" I smiled. "Why?"

"Uncle D promised me pancakes, and I'm waiting. That was, like, foreeever ago."

"I just made you pancakes yesterday for breakfast."

"Not your kinda pancakes, Daddy. The kind Uncle D gets me with gobs of chocolate and whip-" She slapped her hand over her mouth. "Oops. I wasn't 'posed to tell you that part."

She thought she was hiding the biggest secret, that I couldn't tell she was hyped up on sugar and covered in chocolate whenever Dominick brought her home.

"I'll let Uncle D know that you're extremely disappointed in him and that he owes you big." I pushed more loose strands off her forehead. "What about Uncle Jenner? What should I tell him?"

She grinned, her eyes widening, licking her bottom lip. "I want him to take me to the house on the giant mountain, so we can eat all the s'mores outside by the big fire."

"You want to go to his house in Utah, huh?"

Jenner had recently purchased a home in Park City, and it had become one of Everly's most desired places to visit. Mine too. There was nothing like escaping to the mountains, getting to ski on some fresh powder, and unplugging from our busy life in LA.

"Yes, silly."

"I see someone has a new favorite word." I hugged her against my chest. "I'm afraid of the teenage version of you. It's a good thing I have quite a few years before we get there. I need to prep myself."

"Daddy, I'm going to be so sassy."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

We were quiet for a few moments, something unusual for my spunky daughter, and I broke the silence to say, "My little negotiator, I know there's still a few hours left before you have to go to bed, but in the meantime, let's not convince Hannah to let you stay up extra late or let you watch something I wouldn't approve of, okay?"

"Or have a popcorn fight in your bed like last time?"

I leaned back to show her my face. "There most definitely won't be any of that, do you hear me?" I paused. "I think I'm still finding kernels in there."

She giggled. "But it was sooo much fun."

"I'm sure." As I moved her against me again, I inhaled the scent from the top of her head, the same smell she'd had since she was born. Even though she now chose her own shampoo and I no longer rubbed her chunky limbs with lotion, her scent, to me, hadn't changed. I missed that baby whose body was the length of my forearm, but I was proud of the girl she was turning into.

"I'm going to be home late tonight, so I won't see you until the morning."

"Is Hannah having a sleepover?"

I hugged her tightly, kissing her nest of hair. "She is. Are you going to let her sleep in the guest room?"

"No way. Cousin Hannah sleeps with me. That's the rule."