Page 97 of Scouting the Single Dad

A beat passes. She chews. I breathe. The kitchen reverts to normal—coffee drip, toaster hum, the ordinary music I’ve learned to trust.

“Do you think Layla wants to hold your hand?” Benny asks, back to casual curiosity.

“Obviously.” I wink at my daughter. “And for the record, you did nothing wrong by talking to Madison’s mom. You’re allowed to want things for yourself.”

She nods sagely. “You’re allowed to want things too.”

I gulp back more guilt. “I’m working on it.”

Benny’s already demolished most of her breakfast—all that remains is the sticky syrup. She uses the fork tines to push scraps around.

“Maybe tomorrow I’ll do toast and fruit,” she tells me solemnly, licking syrup off her thumb. “Change things up a bit.”

I nab her plate and rinse it before tucking it neatly into the dishwasher.

“I finished my reading packet,” she adds, swinging her feet. “And I put my gym shoes in my bag because I’m responsible.”

“Nice,” I praise her, and she grins. “Put the packet in your folder after breakfast so you don’t forget. Mrs. Harris is going to ask.”

The sound of the guest room door opening and closing can be heard from down the hall.

Benny brightens. “Sweet. Layla is awake.”

Layla steps into the kitchen with damp hair curling at the ends, snuggled in a black matching hoodie and sweatpants. She looks a little bashful, as if we fucked all night and she isn’t sure how to behave.

“Morning, guys,” she says, ruffling Benny’s hair.

“Morning,” I echo, clearing my throat so it sounds like a fatherly “morning” and not a last-night “morning.” “Coffee?”

“Yes, please.” She tucks a strand behind her ear and slides onto the stool next to Benny’s. Layla gives me a secretive little smile as I slide a coffee mug across the counter toward her. She gives Benny a gentle nudge. “Anything exciting going on today?”

My daughter shrugs her little shoulders. “Besides boring school? Nope. What are you and Dad doing?”

I lean my elbows on the counter, grinning at them both. “Well. After we drop you off at school, I’m going to work from home for a bit—I have a call with Jack.” My agent. “Then I was thinking I would take Layla on a romantic lunch date.”

“A romantic lunch date? Can I come?” Benny asks, hopeful.

“You have school, goof,” I remind her, taking a bagel out of the bread drawer and sliding it into the toaster. “But we’ll be downtown, and I’ll bring you a macaron.”

She cheers, then turns her attention to our guest. “What are you gonna do while Dad is working?”

Layla blows on her coffee. “I’ll answer a few emails this morning and message the team who helped me coordinate Fall Fest to make sure they’re surviving without me.”

Benny perks up. “Do they miss you?”

“I doubt it,” Layla groans good naturedly. “But I should check on them all the same.”

“Anything else?” Benny asks, swinging her legs, the tips of her toes kicking the counter wall.

Layla’s eyes tic to mine, then back to Benny. “Lunch with your dad. And probably . . .” Her voice trails off. “Packing.”

Packing? The word lands like a blow to my chest. I mean, I knew she wasn’t gonna stay forever, but I was hoping she’d stay through the weekend.

Benny tilts her head. “Packing for what?”

“For home,” Layla says gently. “I think I need to head back tomorrow.”

“But you just said you don’t think your team misses you.”