Fake Married to My Best Friend’s Daddy by Sofia T Summers
Adrian
The house fell quiet as my hands slowly slid out from under Ben’s small body. Swaddled up comfortably, I set him down in the traveling baby basket. He had just been changed and fed, so his sleepy eyes drifted off into some dreamless sleep.
Lottie was already sleeping upstairs in the second bedroom I’d fashioned into a children’s room. I’d left her sprawled across the white toddler bed snoring softly. I would easily hear her call if she ever roused from such a deep sleep.
Sitting on the end of my bed, I watched Ben sleep soundly. It was better entertainment than anything I could watch on television, and looking at him made me feel more at home than sitting alone on the sofa.
I’d sold my old home the December before. After careful consideration, I bought a smaller house in a neighborhood closer to my daughter that also offered a more sensible living space. I had a comfortable main bedroom downstairs and a large living room looking into the kitchen and dining area. The dining room let out onto a screened-in porch and a deck.
There was even an above-ground pool just off of the deck. It was going to be a great place for my grandchildren to come and spend their time, but that didn’t mean I was used to it yet.
As much as I loved lawn care being part of the homeowner’s association fees, I still woke up on the weekends thinking I needed to mow my grass. Sometimes, I’d open my bedroom door and be surprised to see the living room right there. Everything was still too new to me.
The reclining leather sofa was without a blemish. The soft yellow walls of the common area were as crisp as the day I painted them, but there were places in the house that were still incomplete. I’d bought the home knowing there were three bedrooms, but I had no idea what to do with the third one.
After eighteen years of living in the same place, I wasn’t sure how to make a new home for myself. My wife, Charlotte, had done a lot of the work on our house. When I left the Navy, we bought a four-bedroom home thinking we were going to have more children. We tried for about a year. We painted up the room into a soft green and began looking at nursery furniture, but Charlotte started feeling sick.
She started feeling run down easily, and her body began behaving erratically. When she found a lump in her left breast, Charlotte knew. She had cancer, and we weren’t going to have any more children.
We tried to adopt, but two failures caused too much heartbreak for my wife. We had Nicole to love and nurture. She was smart, vibrant, and beautiful. Our golden girl became enough for my wife and me, but we never made use of that big house.
It didn’t make sense for me to keep it as a single man. Still, it was hard to leave behind. There were thousands of dinners and millions of laughs, but I’d promised Charlotte I would move forward with my life.
Chuckling to myself, I remembered the day my wife pinned me on the sofa, making me promise I wouldn’t live like a monk. She made me promise I’d be happy. We were just watching some crime show on television where a widow had become dysfunctional after his wife’s death. It suddenly became Charlotte’s worst fear. Much like our daughter, my wife could rage against a fleeting thought.
I was never going to be a hypochondriac or obsessive-compulsive, but I did struggle with moving on without her. There was never going to be anyone quite like Charlotte Davis.
I loved her from the moment I met her at a freshman carnival my first week of college. She had walked up to a midway game as just some blonde-haired girl with freckled cheeks and pond-green eyes. By the end of the ring toss game, Charlotte was relishing her win shamelessly, and I was desperate to know her name.
When I asked her out to the movie on the quad lawn, I watched maybe five minutes of that movie. My eyes were too distracted by her smile, and the sound of her laughter sounded sweeter than our candy tasted. It took me three months to get the courage to kiss her.
There I was, training to be a naval officer, and my greatest fear was being rejected by a pretty little blonde. I couldn’t believe my good luck when she kissed me back. Charlotte laughed when I reluctantly pulled away. I still remember how pretty she looked in her denim jacket and the sound of her soft but teasing words.
“Well, that took you long enough, Adrian.”
I couldn’t believe my luck again when she agreed to marry me a few years later.
I never expected to replace Charlotte, but I thought I could find just… someone. There was a younger woman I met at a grief-sharing group. She was talkative and pretty. I liked how her conversation filled up the quiet corners of my life, but it was never love.
The woman preyed upon my devotion while hoping that I could give her life some stability. I felt bad for her, but I couldn’t forgive how she tried to trap me in that relationship. She lied about being pregnant. She took advantage of my good nature.
I wasn’t interested in reliving my past. No, it was time for me to grow beyond my old ways and my previous chapters. My happiness came from being a father, a grandfather, and the success of my insurance business.
Work was going so well, I was making plans to open a new office in Norfolk, but work wasn’t everything. Nicole had her own life across the bridge in Newport News.
My life was nice as it was, but I knew there was more life in me. I didn’t want to spend night after night sleeping alone. When I stepped into my bathroom, I glanced over to the clawfoot tub to my right, knowing I’d never use it. There was a second sink that remained untouched.
I had the years and space for someone. I just needed to find her, but I didn’t know how or where. It didn’t have to be serious either. I’d already experienced the great love of my life.
Finding Charlotte was serendipity but mere happenstance. Lightning never struck the same place twice. I couldn’t expect to find someone new through some rare but happy chance.
Knowing Ben would have to be fed soon, I needed to get some sleep before my grandson made his demands. I threw on a t-shirt and boxers only to stare up at the ceiling in dark silence. Breathing in the cool air, I wanted a clean slate to fall asleep, but one memory remained.
My eyes still clung to the vision of rose-colored satin gleaming in the evening light. My breath still caught at the memory of Jessica’s curves wrapped up in the cocktail dress under her long stylish coat. It took some effort, but I finally wiped away her face and her figure.
I forgot the music in her steps and the sound of her voice. The last image to leave my mind was her Chesire-cat grin. As lovely as it was, the memory was dangerous to keep.
Nothing good could come of it, no matter how beautiful they were.
She was a beautiful young woman in a nice cocktail dress. I was thinking about my loneliness, and the two made for a toxic combination. It didn’t mean anything. As I buried my face deeper into the pillow, that’s what I told myself anyway, but it didn’t change anything.
I couldn’t make myself forget Jessica Cartier.
