Page 12 of Falling for Keeps

I swipe at the icing on her chin. “You saving that for later?”

“Ew, Dad,” she says, rolling her eyes. When did my nine-year-old turn fifteen? “Of course not.”

“How’s it coming along in here?” Mom asks. She looks around warily, like she’s afraid a troll will jump out at her.

It’s highly unlikely. All the trolls are hiding in my office in the form of dusty boxes and patient files.

“We’re supposed to open next week, but I don’t see how that’s going to happen. At a minimum, I need to paint everything. The new exam chairs are looking like they might be running late.” I scrub a hand over my face. “The x-ray machine won’t be delivered on time for sure.”

“What can I do?”

“You’re doing it.” I gesture toward Penny, who’s looking through the bin of toys in the corner with slight disdain. “She’d be bored if I kept her here all day.”

The poor girl has spent enough of her life in dental offices being babysat by my front desk secretaries and the waiting room TV. I brought her to Vermont so she would have more of a life.

“How’d the school registration go?” Mom asks.

“She’s all set to begin Monday.”

“Just in time to have a week in the classroom before fall break.” Mom checks her watch. “I’d better run. Want me to help paint this week?”

“Maybe. I’ll let you know how much I get done by tomorrow.”

“You know who’s an excellent painter?” Her blonde eyebrows hike up like she’s dangling a juicy tidbit in front of me. “Emma. I bet she’d be happy to help if we pick a day and have a painting party.”

“What is this?” I ask, but my heart still jumps in my chest for some reason. “Are you trying to play matchmaker?”

“Of course not,” she whisper-yells, despite the fact that Penny is still in the same room as us. I know from experience that my kid is listening even when she looks like she isn’t. “Emma is one of my good friends, Carson. She helped me paint the kitchen last summer, and she was meticulous with the details. Let that girl do the border and you’ll have the cleanest lines.”

“Okay. Noted.” It doesn’t matter how great the woman is at cutting in her paint lines; spending time with her is a terrible idea. Not when I don’t plan on having another relationship. Especially not when I was so drawn to her that I kissed her at a bar. Long and hard and with no reservations.

In my defense, she felt familiar, like someone I’ve known for ages—the conversation easy and the chemistry on fire. I also didn’t think I’d see her again. With my luck when it comes to women, I should have known better.

“I’d better go.” Mom crosses the office and pulls me in for a quick hug. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks.” I squeeze her back before she heads out, glad I made the choice to move home. When Jen initially asked for a divorce, the first thing that ran through my mind was Penny. What does it say about my marriage that I wasn’t immediately trying to find ways to make Jen stay? I had done that for three years, at least. Try and try and try, while Penny became my sidekick and I chased the idea of a happy marriage that continued to stay out of reach. By the end, I was tired.

Jen and I were over. She was finally going to quit pretending she still wanted to be around us. As much as it was a relief, I knew it would negatively affect my child, and I wanted to protect her from the pain of separation, abandonment, and a non-nuclear family. In my head, success was staying happily married, and I hadn’t been happy in that marriage for a while—Jen even longer. On that scale, I’d massively failed long ago.

Leaving Tennessee for Vermont was a move full of mixed feelings. I’d failed—my marriage, my life, going out and being an adult on my own—and was returning home with my tail between my legs. It’s hard not to feel inadequate after something like that, and Penny complicates things even further. She’s the most important thing in my life. It doesn’t matter what self-centered thoughts are running through my head. Making sure she’s loved and surrounded by people who care about her, that she’s not feeling the loss of her mom leaving to re-live her twenties the way she really wanted to—that’s all that matters.

That, and making it so Penny doesn’t have to spend every hour after school in my office Monday through Friday. She’ll be a regular still—I’m a single dad and there’s no way around it. But now she’ll get to be home on those days when I close early, and one or two days with my mom when she’s not working.

“You should make this place better for kids,” Penny says, pulling me from my thoughts. She plucks an old toy from the bin and drops it again, popping her hip in a pose not unlike one her mom makes. “It’s kind of sad right now.”

“We can do that.” I’d planned to update the waiting room last, but maybe Penny’s onto something. If the waiting room is inviting, people will want to come back. If it’s easy to wait here with little ones, a trip to the dentist won’t be a major trial. “Good idea, kiddo.”

“I have more ideas.”

“Let’s hear them.”

She walks to the corner of the room and points. “Put a playhouse here with a kitchen and lots of fake food. Or get one of those checkout things to play store.”

“That would be fun.”

Penny crosses the room. “And get rid of these chairs. They’re so ugly.”

“Have you sat in them? They’re pretty comfy.”