Page 22 of Brock’s Lost Lunchbox

“I did get a raise.” But his voice held little joy.

“The least they could give you and hope to keep you, but it’s not about money. You know that.”

“I do. I have been putting my resume out there, and I’ve gone on a few interviews, done some online.”

“You have?” He hadn’t said a word about it. “I had no idea.”

“I didn’t want to tell you until I had something positive to share.”

And it had been one more source of stress.

“Nothing good, huh?”

He shook his head, standing to tend the meat on the grill. “I have had a few offers, but they weren’t anything I wanted. Either the pay was laughable, or the work didn’t sound good. If I am changing, I want it to be to something I like. I’m being very picky.”

“Then maybe consider quitting entirely and taking a break?” I winced at his expression. When I said it, I knew it was not going to be a win, but I had to try. “That way you can focus on the hunt and get a little rest in.”

At first, he’d looked shocked and maybe a little angry, but it quickly abated, replaced with a soft smile. Setting the barbecue fork down, he came to sit on my lap. “You really are worried. But it will be okay, Daddy. I know my limits. Without you and our little times, I’d have melted down a long time ago.”

“Maybe I should hold out, then.”

Linking his arms around my neck, he buried his face in my throat. “Silly, Daddy. You can’t do that. But I appreciate how concerned you are, and I promise if there’s no good news of any kind in a month or so, I will consider your suggestion. Okay?”

“Deal.” I kissed the top of his head then stood, taking him with me and standing him on his feet. “And as much as I’d like to make out with you, our dinner is burning.”

After dinner, we cleaned up—together—and wandered back outside to enjoy the cool evening air. We’d had the conversation, cleared the air, and I thought reached a resolution. If I had my way, I’d have him quit and just relax for a while, but that suggestion hadn’t gone well, so best I let it go for the month we’d discussed. Again, so different than my last relationship. That guy would have jumped on the opportunity to do nothing all day.

Learning what it meant to be a daddy had a lot of bumps and twists. When to help, when to support, when to let someone handle things themselves. I was trying my best.

Glancing to the next chair, I saw Brock’s head sinking toward his chest. Poor guy was exhausted. “Sweet boy, I think we need to make it an early night.”

“Wh-what? No, I’m fine. What were you saying?”

I stood up and held out a hand. “I was saying I’m tired, and would you mind if we went to bed early?”

“Oh, no. Sure.” He took my hand and let me help him up. “I didn’t realize you were sleepy.”

Because he was asleep.

“Sorry to be such a drag on Saturday night.”

He kissed me on the cheek. “It’s okay. I’m kind of tired too, after all. Let’s go.”

Even when he was big, my boy was still adorable. In the bedroom, I was undressed and heading for the bathroom when I noticed him standing by the bed, not moving.

“Okay, my sweet boy, Daddy’s going to get you all ready for bed.”

His eyes were half closed, his shoulders slumped, and I knew right then we couldn’t wait a month to get him out of his situation. But we could talk about it in the morning. I guided him in to brush his teeth because no way was he going to thank me if he skipped that. I washed his face and hands and combed his hair back then led him back to the bedroom.

“Oh no, my phone!” he said. “I need to have it.”

“Tonight? Are you expecting a call?”

“No, but there’s one job that I didn’t hear back from, and it’s the one I want. I know they probably won’t call or text on a Saturday night, but…”

But it was important. “I’ll go get it. Is it in the living room?”

“I’m not sure. But I had it a while ago when we were cooking.”