Twenty minutes later, we were heading for my sister’s house, eating glazed donuts and banging our heads along to some hard rock, which the girls called “Dad music.” In the rearview mirror, I looked at my daughters, and as always, I was half-stunned to see them sitting back there—was I really a father?—and fully knocked out by how much I adored them. Sometimes I thought I might be having a heart attack when I looked at them. The feeling was that powerful.
Hallie had my dark hair and brown eyes as well as my stubborn streak and smart-ass mouth. She had Naomi’s lightly freckled nose and relentless need to ask questions. Physically, Luna was her mother through and through, from the blond curls to the dimpled smile, but she was much more easygoing, and she always laughed at my jokes.
I turned down the music. “So how did I do this morning?” This was another game they loved—giving me a score based on how well I’d handled the morning. I’d invented it to distract them from missing their mom in the early days of the split. “Ten, right?”
“I don’t know about ten,” Hallie said. “I think there should be a point off for cutting Luna’s hair.”
“But that was her gum,” I argued.
“Still. And then my lucky penny got lost.”
“You lost the penny!”
“And you didn’t have Hello Kitty Band-Aids,” Luna added, wiping her hands on the front of her shirt.
“That’s three things,” Hallie said. “And ten minus three is seven.”
“Seven out of ten?” I shook my head. “No fucking way. I need at least an eight.”
“You did let us sleep in your bed,” Hallie allowed. “I guess we could give you a point for that.”
“And we’ll give you another one for a ride in the truck!” Luna added.
“Hmmm.” I pretended to consider their offer. “So I’d get a nine out of ten?”
“Yes,” they answered.
“Fine. But I’m playing Dad music the whole time.” I cranked up the volume on Aerosmith and rolled down the windows.
Nine out of ten wasn’t perfect, but I’d fucking take it.
Two
Winnie
I like a well-made man as much as the next girl, but I never truly considered myself a creeper until the day my next-door neighbor moved in.
Around one o’clock that day—a Saturday—I was sitting on my bedroom floor painting my toes when I heard the sound of a truck with noisy brakes in the parking lot. My windows were open, and after the truck’s engine shut off, I heard two male voices.
Intrigued, I stood up and walked on my heels over to the front window. Nudging the curtain aside, I peeked out and saw two muscular guys in jeans and T-shirts rolling up the truck door and pulling out the loading ramp.
I recognized one of them—the tall one with the baseball cap, dark scruffy jaw, and gray T-shirt. Yesterday afternoon, I’d seen him coming out of the condo next to mine just as I was pulling into my driveway after work. The end unit had been empty for a couple months but had recently been sold—maybe he was the new owner? I’d have introduced myself right then, except that he’d seemed in a hurry, only giving me a quick nod before jumping into a dusty black, older-model SUV the next driveway over and taking off.
But this was definitely the guy. It was hard to tell how old he was from up here—maybe late twenties or early thirties?—but he was tall, with big shoulders and biceps that bulged inside the sleeves of his shirt. He yelled something to his friend, and I noted the deep, gruff voice.
Curious, I watched him and his buddy unload furniture off the truck. My cat, a brown and white tabby, nudged my ankle with her nose, like she wanted to see him too.
“I don’t blame you, Piglet,” I said, bending down to scratch behind her ears. “He’s hot, even if he doesn’t look too friendly.”
The guy never smiled. He moved quickly and purposefully, like he didn’t want to waste any time, and he didn’t interact much with his buddy. But something about his clenched jaw, broad chest, and surly demeanor intrigued me—along with the shirt he wore, which said TCFD.
Traverse City Fire Department?
Immediately I imagined him carrying me from the inferno formerly known as the Woodland North Townhomes, soot darkening his face, my arms looped around his sturdy neck. After gently setting me down a safe distance from the blaze, he’d rush back inside to rescue Piglet, barely making it out before our end of the building collapsed.
I was half in love with him inside five minutes.