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“Chloe,” I whisper.
“And it wasn’t your job to take me to tea parties when everyone else was there with their mom, or dance on stage to help me at my first recital when I couldn’t remember the moves.”
Emotion crawls into my throat and thickens it so much I don’t know if I’ll be able to swallow.
“It wasn’t your job to take a lesson at the salon so you’d know how to do my hair, or go to the women’s center to research all you could about getting your period so it wouldn’t catch me off guard.”
She stops stirring and leans into the counter to look me in the eye, her amber ones shining brightly with unshed tears.
“You went the extra mile to be the absolute best father you could be, but that wasn’t your job. Just like taking care of you isn’t mine. But I’m going to do it anyway, and I’m going to do it the way you always did with me. Maybe signing you up to be the bachelor in some newspaper thingie was extra, but I stand by it.”
“Chloe.”
“I’m grown, Dad. Grown,” she emphasizes. “My needs are different than they used to be. Now, I need to know you’re set. You’ve been my best friend for my entire life, and if you don’t want happiness for your friend, you’re not really a friend at all.”
“If you want me to meet a woman, there are a hundred ways to do that that don’t include being the pawn in a ridiculous farce called Bachelor Mystery.”
“Bachelor Anonymous,” she corrects me on a giggle.
“Whatever.” I sigh. “It doesn’t matter what it’s called. What matters is that there are plenty of other, not ridiculous ways for me to find someone.”
“Fine. You’re right,” she agrees. “But if you were going to do any of them, you would have done them years ago. Just give this a chance, Dad. Please.”
“Why is this so important to you, Chlo?” I ask, a knot of unwelcome emotion clogging my throat as I think back through the movie reel of our lives. So many memories. So many tragic moments. So much beauty and love and happiness. “Why do you think I need a woman so badly? Have I cheated you by keeping you to myself all these years? Did you miss out by only having a dad to look up to?”
“I didn’t miss out. You did.”
I shake my head. “My life has been exactly what I’ve made of it, Chloe, and I made it that way for a reason. I wouldn’t change it.” I laugh a little. “Hell, I don’t even know if I’m equipped to compromise with someone on everything anymore. I’ve been on my own, in charge of my own decisions for a long time. Sometimes it’s hard to unlearn living that way. And I don’t know if I want to.”
“With the right person, you won’t have to compromise all that much.”
I shrug, sighing internally at myself for having all those conversations about empowerment in a relationship over the years. I wasn’t prepared to have her feeding all my own crap back to me so soon.
“And you think this—whatever this contest is with the paper—is going to produce the right person?”
“I think you miss a hundred percent of the shots you don’t take,” she fires back, quoting me from yet another parental speech.
It’s like I loaded the gun for her, for God’s sake.
I sigh heavily and consider her closely, and she does the same to me. We stare at each other with the weight of our lives—years and years of counting on each other and trusting that even if it seems crazy in the beginning, it’ll all make sense in the end.
“This is nuts, Chlo. You realize that, right? You entered your forty-year-old dad in a dating contest run by a newspaper.”
“A dating contest in which readers voted and chose my forty-year-old dad to be the most eligible bachelor in San Diego.”
I stare at her in confusion, and she shrugs.
“I might have written the ad, but the SoCal Tribune readers voted you in.”
“This just gets better and better, doesn’t it?” I mutter, and a soft giggle pops from her lips as she turns to preheat the oven.
“Just do it, Dad. What’s the worst that could happen?” she questions with a glance over her shoulder. “You meet an amazing woman who catches your eye, and you actually enjoy spending time with her?” She feigns disgust. “Ew, gross.”
Am I really going to do this fucking thing?
Silver lining? You’ll get to see the intriguing woman that is Holley Fields again…
“I can’t believe I’m agreeing to do this.” I shake my head and bring it down to the counter, and she shrieks a cheer into the air.
Hell, just what am I getting myself into?HolleyPapers flutter into the garbage as I toss another heap from my desk into the trash can near my desk. Hundreds and hundreds of personal ads and application information to go through, and still, finding another viable option for Bachelor Anonymous seems impossible.
