Possessive Daddy Next Door

“Maybe,” I say. “So you could get the money. But you also sourced the clothes, created the styles, the marketing, the branding.”

“True. That part was fun though.”

“Fun or not, most people can’t do it. And you succeeded.”

“For two years. Then it all fell apart.”

“Did you learn anything?”

She gives me a sharp look. “You sound like my sister.”

“I bet your sister’s really smart.”

“She is. She’s also lazy.”

I laugh again and shrug, going back to cooking. “I know you’re hurting from it right now. But you just need to try again.”

“Easy for you to say,” she grumbles.

I keep cooking and we move the conversation over to something lighter. I ask about her family, about the house, and she seems to like talking about it. Tab finishes her food and I let her watch a little Daniel Tiger while I spend more time with Delia. I try to limit her cartoon intake but I haven’t had a woman over in a very long time, so I’m breaking my rules.

“That looks amazing,” Delia says as we sit down. “Seriously, I’ve never been more attracted to a man in my life.”

“If you think the cooking is good, you should see me without a shirt.”

Her eyes flash. “Can we make that happen?”

I lean toward her and smile. “Just be patient.”

She laughs and blushes and takes a bite to eat. She makes all the appropriate, delighted noises, and we settle back into an easy rhythm again.

I haven’t felt this way about a woman since my wife. And even there, things were difficult toward the end. I was spending too much time away from home, too immersed in my work. And when I was home, I was still halfway back in my old job, back in my old role. I could never give it up.

There were a lot of reasons for that. It would be too dangerous to stop. I was an undercover agent and I had to believe my own lies or else risk getting caught. The men I was embedded with would have killed me if they even suspected that I might be a cop.

So when I was home, I wasn’t home. I was still in that role, at least a little bit, for my own self-preservation.

Beth couldn’t understand that. I tried to explain but she had a hard time separating the two things, in a different way. She couldn’t accept that I was also a different person when I came home while on a break during undercover work. She couldn’t accept it and we fought about it constantly.

Then the case broke wide open and she got pregnant. Things seemed to get better for a while. Tabitha was born, which was hard, but we were moving forward.

And then…

I pause and force the memories away.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

I smile at Delia. “Yeah. Sure, sorry about that.”

“You spaced out there for a second.”

“Just remembering something.”

“Want to talk about it?”

I hesitate then shake my head. “Another time.”

“You were a cop, right?”

“Right. Worked undercover toward the end.”

“What happened?” she asks. “How come you left?”

I lean back in my chair and sigh. “It’s complicated. But the case I worked on came to an end, a very big, very dramatic end. Undercover work does something to you, makes it hard to live a normal life, and I wanted a normal life. Then Beth died and I just… I couldn’t go on with it. I wanted to be a better father for Tab.”

“I see,” she says. “Did you love it?”

“I loved it,” I say. “Giving it up was hard.”

“I can only imagine.”

“Honestly, I think you know more than you realize. Your store, you loved it, right?”

“It was my life,” she says and laughs. “As pathetic as that sounds. I mean, it was just a clothing store. It wasn’t, like, important.”

“It was important to you. So you’re feeling a sense of loss right now. That’s okay.”

She leans forward and grins at me. “Thanks, Dr. Phil.”

I roll my eyes at her and laugh. “Okay, I’m being corny. I’ll stop.”

“No, you’re right, I’m just defensive.”

“Look, you’ll be okay. Trust me.”

We finish up the meal. I get Tab into PJs and read her a story while Delia cleans up. I’m a little surprised when she offers, which isn’t fair. I see her as a rich girl now, but she’s clearly more than just that.

When I’m done with the story, I kiss Tab and put her to bed. I come back out and find Delia sipping wine.

“Let’s sit outside,” I suggest.

She shrugs and follows me. We sit on the porch with our wine. I have a little bench swing and we both fit, thighs touching, her body leaning against mine. I can smell her hair and her soap. I want to kiss her neck but I hold back.

“Nice out here,” she comments.

“Secluded. I like it.”

“You’re in the middle of the woods, you know. Don’t you ever feel creeped out?”