Broken Single Daddy's Baby

Derek Ledderman was the stuff of dreams.
Tall, blond, and broad,
with green eyes that could see right through my soul,
a fortune any man would kill for,
and a smile he saved just for special occasions.

But why is he has to be so off-limits?
Not only is he my boss, but he is also unhappily divorced, and sixteen years older.
To complicate matters further, he happens to be my aunt's ex-husband.

Too bad resisting my attraction to him kept getting harder every day…

Hell, I was in so deep that I’d give this man anything he asked for—including my V card.

But when I finally surrendered myself to him and spent a night in his arms, I was afraid I’d made the biggest mistake of my life.

He was no longer just the grumpy single dad I called my boss.
He was the father of my baby, and I had no idea how he'd react to the news...

I groan in the front seat of the car as my four-year-old son kicks my seat
repeatedly.

“Eli,
I swear to God, I will turn this car around.”

“No!”
six-year-old Maggie yelps. “I want a cake pop, Daddy!”

“Cake,
cake, cake,” Eli chants.

These
two are more than just a handful and all I want is to go and grab some coffee
before work. Unfortunately, the daycare doesn't open until seven and I’m
already wary about leaving them there just as drop-ins. Maggie and Eli are
great kids, but they can be a little rambunctious.

Eli
kicks my seat again and I take in a deep breath and count to ten. I’m what many
people would call a “permissive” parent, and I practice gentle parenting as
much as I can, but right now, I feel like my head might explode.

“Cake
pops,” I mutter, and Eli finally stops kicking my seat and favors me with a
smile, showing his little teeth.

“Cake pops and a strawberry milkshake!” Maggie cries, as if she’ll die if she doesn’t
get those two things immediately.

“Only
if you two are good,” I say firmly, and Eli pouts.

“Eli
in trouble, Daddy?” he asks me, holding out his arms for me to pick him up
after I get out of the car and open the back door.

My
heart seems to swell two sizes at the look of him, his green eyes so much like
mine.

“Not
in trouble, Eli. Just be good in the shop, okay?”

“Okay,”
he says easily, wrapping his legs around my hip as I lift him out of his car
seat.

Maggie
is already trying to unbuckle herself from the safety seat, so I hurry over to
help, but she wants none of that.

“I
can do it, Daddy. I’m a big girl,” she says, and her little tongue is peeking
out at all the effort she is making. She is starting to get frustrated and that
is not good. For any of us.

“You know?” I tell her. “Even I struggle with that  sometimes, so maybe we can do it
together and you can help me?”

She
looks at me suspiciously at first, but then smiles and says, “Okay, Daddy. I
can help you.”

I
sigh inwardly in relief that the crisis was averted and let her hands settle on
mine as I finally unbuckle her, pretending to expend a lot of effort along the
process, causing her to giggle the whole time.

Once
we are done, she insists on getting off the chair by herself and I take her
hand in mine as soon as she is out of the car.

She looks up at me with her chin upturned. “I can walk by myself,” she says
firmly, but I keep hold of her hand.

“I know, honey. But I’m getting old and I can’t do it by myself, or
while I’m carrying Eli here, so please keep holding my hand and help me, okay?” 

She is getting more independent by the hour, almost, but I know
she’ll do anything for me and Eli, so I have to play all the cards I can to
make the whole process easier and still keep her safe, because there is no way
a six-year-old should be crossing a road by herself, if there is an adult close
by. Especially not my baby girl when I’m right here to keep her safe. 

So,
holding her hand, I walk right beside her as she looks both ways dutifully and
walks across the pedestrian crosswalk.

Taking
a four-year-old and a six-year-old to the coffee shop at six in the morning
isn’t exactly my idea of a great time, but I’m sort of between childcares. My
parents kept the kids for me for a long time after Suzanna left, but they’re
getting older and it’s hard for them to chase them around.

So,
for today, I’m trying a drop-in daycare to see how the kids do. I’ll need a
long-term solution, and fast, but it takes time to decide who you want to watch
your children.

They’ve
been through so much already.

Eli
scrambles to get down and he runs immediately to the cake display, pointing at
a big piece of cheesecake. “Cake!” he shouts and starts banging his little fist
on the glass like waiting for someone to open it or ask who it is from the
other side.

“Eli,
please stop banging the glass. You’ll break it. Also, cheesecake for breakfast,
buddy? I don’t think so,” I grumble under my breath, taking his hand and
pulling him away from the display case.

“We
have to wait in line, Eli,” Maggie says matter-of-factly, and Eli, who looks up
to his sister, obediently goes to take her hand and wait in line ahead of me,
but the lure of the display counter seems too big of a temptation and in
seconds, both of them are running and gluing their faces to the glass, each
pointing at different treats, apparently trying to beat each other at who finds
the best one.

A young woman is in line ahead of me, wearing a pair of jeans and a
crop-top. She has a dirty blonde high ponytail. She is pushed back, almost
bumping into me, when Maggie and Eli crowd in front of her, as she’s waiting
for her order. 

I
hold her up and away from me, and when she looks back to both apologize and
thank me, I realize she is much younger than I expected. The kids are all up in
her space now, talking a mile a minute and she has to walk around them to get
to the counter now.

Horrified, I call “Maggie, Eli, please come back here. We have to
wait our turn in line or no cake pops for you.” The kids look at  me as if I’m an ogre depriving them
of their most treasured possession. Then to the woman I say, “Sorry. My kids
don’t know what personal space is.”

“It’s
all right,” she says, smiling down at them.

Eli
looks dejected, and having been scolded, Maggie is now mad. She gives the woman
a death glare that I swear only six-year-olds are capable of.

“What’s
your name?” the woman asks her undeterred by her attitude, and Maggie looks
down before answering.

“Margaret,”
she mumbles. “Margaret Veronica Ledderman.”

“What
a big girl name!” the woman says brightly.

Maggie looks at her and her eyes are shining. “I like when people
call me Maggie,” she says shyly, and I blink down at her, surprised. Maggie
doesn’t like speaking to people, and she’s usually either pretty standoffish or
pretty shy depending on the person. 

The
woman crouches down to Maggie’s level and offers her hand. When Maggie takes
it, she shakes her hand firmly. “I’m Kenna,” she says.

Eli
just stares at her with wide green eyes. “Eli,” he says, simple enough, and I
bite my lip to keep from laughing.

“We
should probably leave this lovely young woman alone,” I say, taking their
hands. “Why don’t you two find us a table?”

“Cake?”
Eli asks hopefully.

“Cake pops,” I say, unwilling to let him have cheesecake this early in the
morning even if he did eat eggs and drink some orange juice before we left the
house.

Eli
doesn’t complain and Maggie drags him toward a seat near the window.

I
turn back to the young woman, smiling. “I really am sorry about that,” I say,
and she waves a hand dismissively.

“It
was no problem at all. They’re adorable,” she says with a bright smile.

She’s quite pretty, although way too young for me. She has bright blue
eyes and a pretty, crooked smile.

“Kenna,
was it?” I ask, just to be polite. I feel awkward in these kinds of social
situations. In high school, Suzanna pursued me like a Pitbull, and I’d gotten
into a relationship with her that had spanned nearly thirteen years. I’m okay
fraternizing at work, but it’s never more than friendly banter or innocent
flirting with women I know are unavailable. And they know I’m unavailable too
and it’s all for fun. Outside of work, though, I get all awkward and
tongue-tied.

“That’s
me,” she says, sounding bubbly.

“I’m
Derek,” I say. “Since my kids didn’t introduce me.” It sounds dumb even to my
own ears, but Kenna smiles.

“Nice
to meet you,” she says quietly, and then grabs her order from the barista when
they call her name.

I stare at her for a moment longer before looking toward the
barista, almost glad when Kenna walks away that I don’t have to keep up
conversation, because I kind of suck at it. 

The
kids are bouncing around near the window, making a ruckus and just being kids,
honestly, but a few people there are starting to give them the looks. So, I
order quickly and head over toward them.

I
pull out a couple of sheets of paper from my briefcase and some crayons that I
keep in there for the kids and Eli and Maggie both begin to draw. Eli nearly
draws on the tabletop, too, but thank God they’re erasable crayons.

Eli
pauses after a few moments, looking around, and I freeze, thinking he’s
probably going to go wild waiting for his cake pop. Turns out I’m looking at
the wrong kid, because Maggie turns over the sugar container and it spills all
over the table as they finally call my name for the cake pops, strawberry
smoothies, and latte.

“Shit,”
I mutter.

“Daddy, you said a bad word.” Shit! I almost said it again.

“Sorry,
honey. Daddy—” At that second, Eli starts to fuss too.

“Yellow!”
he screams, pointing at his sister.

She
shakes her head, holding the crayon to her chest and says, “U-hu. I need it,
pick another color.”

“YELLOW!”
he screams louder.

“No!”
she screams back, and I’m really considering just grabbing them both and
leaving this place without the cake pops, just cutting my loses.

“It’s okay, go get your things. I’ll keep an eye on them for a
second,” a voice emerges from outside the screaming match now on full swing
between my kids, and there’s Kenna, the young woman I’d met in line,  taking a napkin to clean up the sugar
mess on the table and talking to the kids.

“Eli?
You have such a beautiful drawing, what is it?” she asks, and their eyes fly to
her simultaneously. She is smiling and his eyes shyly move down to the drawing
in front of him.

“The
sea. I want to paint a fishy. Yellow.”

“Wow,
a yellow fish?” He nods. Her soothing voice is working wonders and both kids
are now just calmly looking at her.

“That’s
a good idea. Wanna hear another good idea?”

He nods again and his eyes slowly go back to her again, eager to
discover whatever might come next. 

“While
Maggie uses the yellow, we can do a green fishy to be yellow fishy’s friend.
How about that?”

His
eyes widen in wonder and his little hand immediately grabs for the green
crayon.

“What
about me?” Maggie asks shyly.

“Your drawing is beautiful too. What is it? 
Can you tell me?”

“It’s
a princess castle. I need the yellow to paint it because we have no golden, so
this is the gold. Princesses have golden palaces,” she states proudly.

“They
do. Their castles also have a lot of pinks and purples, so maybe we could use
those too?”

Dropping
the yellow, she makes a grab for the pink crayon, and in less than a minute,
the coveted crayon now sits abandoned on the table and both kids are happy
again. It’s like I just witnessed real magic happening in front of me.

“Thank
you,” I say, and I go grab my order. When I come back to the table, they are
still calm and quiet, painting away.

Eli
sees me and grabs for his cake pop.

Maggie
looks at me and I set her cake pop and smoothie in front of her. She smiles at
me grateful and goes back to painting after a sip on the smoothie and a cake
pop.

“I
appreciate this so much,” I mumble, not knowing exactly what to say. She’s been
a lifesaver, really.

“Don’t
worry about it, really.”

“Let
me buy you another coffee?” I offer, thinking that throwing money at a
situation usually helps, but she shakes her head.

“No,
thanks, can’t have too much caffeine or I’ll be bouncing off the walls.”

“Please,
I have to do something,” I insist.

Kenna
bites her lip, giving me another crooked smile. “Maybe a cake pop?”

“A
cake pop?”

“Maybe
I have a little problem with sugar,” she says, holding up her fingers to
indicate a small amount.

I
laugh and leave her again with the kids at the table while I go and order her
cake pop, bringing it back for her.

She
sticks it into her mouth immediately, smiling.

“On
the way to school?” she asks after taking a bite.

“No,
not yet. Maggie starts the next semester,” I explain. “We’re off to daycare.”

“Oh,
which do you use?”

I
look at her. “Why do you ask? You can’t have kids at your age.”

That
probably isn’t the right thing to say to a total stranger, but she doesn’t balk
at the question, she actually blushes a little.

“No,
no kids yet. I’m just looking for a job.”

“Oh?”
I ask, raising an eyebrow. ”What kind of work do you do?”

She’s
looking down at Eli when she answers. “I’m taking a gap year for college, but
I’m in early education. I just want to work around kids.”

This
is probably not the best way to find a nanny, but it’s not like I have any
prospects currently and I’d just witnessed her averting a major crisis with
hardly a hair out of place or dropping her smile once.

“Have
you thought about becoming a nanny?” I ask.

“Why?
Do you know someone?” she asks, and I look down at my kids with a wry look on
my face. She laughs, covering her mouth with her hand. “I’m so sorry; I should
have realized.”

I
shake my head. “Listen, I know this is weird and you don’t know me, but you’ve
been great with my kids and I’m looking for someone – if I give you my business
card will you email me your resume?”

She
looks at me curiously. “Really?”

I
reach into my wallet and hand her a business card. “Really. I’d love to
interview you.”

Kenna
gives me a soft smile and takes the business card. “Thank you. Really, I’ll
send it right away.”

She
walks toward the bathroom and I wonder if I fucked that completely up with my
lack of social graces.

The
kids have busied themselves with food and drink and painting and I smile at
them, finally feeling like we’re settled for the first time this morning. I
already had to deal with Maggie having a tantrum because she couldn’t find her
pink shoes. She starts school next year because she has a late birthday, and so
I have her and Eli full-time until then.

I’ve
been a single dad for three years, and it doesn’t get any easier, but it also
is rewarding. My kids love me and I’d die for them, so I’m happy.

Right?

It’s
just that sometimes I feel like I’m drowning and I’m all alone, and it’s hard.
How do you explain to the kids that their mother just left? They need a mother
figure in their life. They might not have a lot of memories of her, though
Maggie might, since she had just turned three at the time, but that doesn’t
mean I’m enough.

And
sometimes I just wish I had someone to help me get through the rougher patches.
These kids are amazing, yes, but I struggle a lot and I miss having a helping
hand. Not that Suzanna ever was one, but it would be nice to have someone to
help me along the way, I think.

The
kids are good while I drink my coffee and I’m grateful. I’ve been feeling
overwhelmed lately.

Kenna
happens to be walking out of the café at the same time that we are. Eli has
chocolate from the cake pop all over his face and hands so I’m trying to keep
him from wiping it on my suit as I wrangle him into the car seat.

“Kenna
is here,” Maggie says quietly, and I look up at her.

“I’ll
shoot you that resume,” she says confidently, and gives me a bright smile.

Maybe
there’s a light at the end of the tunnel.