Page 33 of The Single Father Upstairs

Over breakfast, the three of us talked about how I wanted to deal with the contents of my apartment. I tried to keep Indie in on conversations like this because, while she didn’t have any responsibility toward doing the moving, she was a part of this family and I wanted her to feel included.

We talked about what should stay and what should go. The furniture was a no-brainer. It was gone. Stellan’s masterpieceswere far superior in every way. Indie had opinions on some of the throw pillows that she was sure Marmalade really needed.

“Are we doing that today?” she asked.

“Maybe,” I said. Indie didn’t have school. I didn’t have work and I had energy, so it probably wasn’t the worst idea. “But didn’t you have plans with Rudy?”

“No, that’s tomorrow.”

He was going to teach her how to make his “famous” cake. I was trusting that it was famous. I hadn’t heard of it or had a piece yet, but I was ready to try some.

“So let’s do this!” She scarfed down the last of her eggs and ran to her room to finish getting ready.

“I can take care of this, honey.” Stellan’s hand rested on mine.

“Or we can do it together. I promise not to overdo it.”

He side-eyed me.

“I promise, for real.” I’d been known for working overtime on days I said I wouldn’t after getting lost in the task at hand. I’d earned that side-eye.

We’d gone back and forth about where the baby would sleep and ultimately decided that they would be in the room with us at first. Stellan was making them a bassinette to fit in there. Afterward, we’d either have them share with Indie or turn her bedroom into two sleep spaces. We hadn’t quite decided and were going to let her take the lead on that. The one thing we were being very intentional about was making sure that Indie didn’t feel like she was being pushed to the side to welcome her new sibling.

Getting the items sorted out that were coming upstairs and putting them away wasn’t as big a task as I feared. It was figuring out what to do with the rest that took too much time. Ultimately, we decided to have a “free sale” for the complex only. Anybody could go in, take anything they needed, and then we’d donate the rest. We didn’t need the money, and getting it done quickly was the goal.

It was fun watching our neighbors come in and find a little kitchen gadget that they were excited about, or a new use for my bookshelf I no longer needed. My favorite part of it was spending time with all the neighbors. What a long way we’d come from when I first walked through the front door. They’d had no idea what to do with me. I thought they hated me. But they were apprehensive about a human being here. We were all struggling to see where I belonged.

Now we were family, and knowing that something of mine would be part of their lives, even if it was just a little mushroom slicer, made me smile.

“I’m calling it done.” Stellan took the book from my hand and put it on the coffee table. I’d spent the past half-hour arranging and rearranging the books despite having done the task already hours ago. I blamed pregnancy weirdness for my need to have it be perfect. “You’re not allowed to do any more work for the day. You barely ate lunch. Go wash up. We’re leaving.”

He wasn’t asking.

“Where are we going?”

“We’re leaving.”

Five minutes later, the three of us were getting in the car.

“Dad, where are we going?” Indie asked what I wanted to, but we both should have known Stellan enough to know that if he’d wanted us to know, we would already.

“You’ll see.”

“Better be someplace good. Marmalade misses us.” Indie didn’t mess around when it came to Marmalade.

The cat knew all begging needed to go to my mate because he was the softy there, but for playtime and snuggles, it was all Indie. The two of them were besties. Indie had her dad make a special cat condo that matched her comforter to keep in her room. It was shaped like a daisy, each petal forming a different perch. From the side, you couldn’t really see it was supposed to be a flower, but looking from the top down, there was no mistaking it for anything else.

We drove into the parking lot of a building supply store. Indie pushed my shoulder and gave me a look.

“Don’t ask me.”

It wasn’t until he drove around the side of the building that I saw our destination—an ice cream truck.

“You took us out for ice cream?” she squeaked.

“Absolutely. They make the city’s best banana splits, and someone in this car hasn’t been getting enough potassium and has been getting Charley horses at night.”

He wasn’t wrong.