The Single Dad: Girl’s Sexual Awakening

“I hope so.” I didn’t want to continue dwelling on me in case we ventured further into the topic of employment-something I certainly didn’t want to lie about if it came up. So, I said, “What about you? Hannah told me you’re a lawyer. I’m assuming the guys you were with at the bar were friends? Colleagues?”

“Yes, but more importantly, they’re family.” He turned at the light, taking his hand back to shift. “I have two older brothers-Jenner and Dominick-who were there that night, and we more or less run the law firm even though my parents are technically in charge.”

“And Hannah will be working for you?”

“With us, yes.”

“How nice that your family works together and that you all wanted to be lawyers.”

“Where your brain revolted against numbers, the dinner table conversations did quite the opposite for my brothers and me. Our parents’ chatter ended up fueling us. We each concentrate on a different type of law. Mine’s estate planning, which means I deal with nothing but numbers.”

“That sounds like hell.”

He laughed. “So does education.”

I held myself back from snorting. “Fair enough.” I watched the headlights flash across his face, reading his expression even if it was just his profile. “I get the sense that you love it.”

“I do. My brothers are in entertainment and real estate law-areas that require them to be on the road much more often than me. Estate planning is perfect for my lifestyle and my daughter.”

“She’s adorable, Ford. You two seem very close.”

“We are.” He exhaled loudly. “And we always have been, even during the days when I had no idea what I was doing.”

I placed my hand on his arm, surprised by the jolt of sensations that instantly moved through me. “No one does. It’s all a giant guessing game, especially when they’re born. How old were you when she was born?”

He was silent for a few seconds before he answered, “Twenty-four. I hadn’t given children much thought. I was far more concerned with partying and making money than being responsible for someone other than myself.” When our eyes connected, there was emotion in his. Emotion I couldn’t quite pinpoint. “But Everly came into my life and exploded everything I’d thought to be true. It’s just been her and me ever since.”

My questions were accumulating.

Where is Everly’s mom? Does she have a role in her life?

What happened to the relationship between Ford and her?

What is the cause of the emotion I’m seeing?

Instead of asking any of those, I softly said, “She’s lucky to have you.”

“Nah, Sydney.” He stilled, his voice so coarse. “I’m the lucky one to have her.”

I melted.

My heart, my body-all combining together into a puddle of goo in this seat.

I’d witnessed many conversations during my time as an au pair-talks between the Turners, their friends, and their neighbors. There were things parents said about their children, obligatory responses. And then there were replies that came from the rawest part of their soul. An admission from the most beautiful, unfiltered place.

That was what I’d just heard.

A side of Ford that he kept protected.

That was extremely vulnerable.

I would cherish this moment.

“I believe that,” I whispered. “But I believe that to be true for both of you.”

He said nothing as he pulled into the restaurant, and we got out of the car, his hand moving to my lower back as we walked inside.

The silence finally broke when he said, “Should we start in the bar?”

I wanted the evening to last as long as possible.

So, I nodded, and he led us into that section, where there were two barstools along the far side of the bar. He stood behind me while I sat, making sure the seat didn’t shift as I got comfortable.

Before he left that position and got onto his own stool, he breathed, “That dress, Sydney …” His tone turned hoarse, gritty. “Fuck.”

The air from each of his syllables swished against my neck, like it was being carried off a lake, the echoes hitting the walls inside my chest, sending goose bumps down my back.

“I’m glad you like it.”

He sat on his stool and turned the base of the seat toward me, our knees brushing. “Do you drink wine? They have quite an extensive list here.”

“I do, and I prefer red.” I smiled. “I don’t peg you as a white wine drinker.”

He chuckled. “You’re right about that.” He took the leather-bound menu the bartender handed to him and continued, “Do you have a preference, or should I choose one for us?”ConTEent bel0ngs to Nôv(e)lD/rama(.)Org .

“Surprise me.”

I hadn’t been in a relationship since high school. The few dates I’d been on since were with guys closer to my age. They took initiative without asking my opinion. They just assumed and dealt with the consequences.

Ford was different.

He was older.

Thoughtful, considerate.

And when the bartender approached, Ford requested two glasses of a Cab I didn’t recognize and turned back toward me. His eyes filled the silence, speaking so loudly as they roamed across my face that I found it almost hard to breathe.

“You’re getting into education,” he said, his stare dipping to my lips, his hand following with the gentlest touch as he grazed my chin. “You come from a family of numbers. You have an older brother. What else should I know about you, Sydney?”

My heart began to race even faster.

I felt like I was keeping a vital piece of information from him by not mentioning my upcoming interview with his assistant. The last four years were such an important milestone in my life, so it seemed disingenuous to not discuss it.