Page 13 of Singled Out

“Woo, look at your dressed-up daddy, Danny,” Dakota said.

“Dada,” Daniel said around the messy little fingers in his mouth.

I walked to the high chair, bent over, and kissed his blond head, catching his messy hand before it hit my jacket.

“I need my hug, little guy,” I said, my gut knotting like it always did when I left him.

Maybe it was ridiculous that I had separation anxiety worse than my eighteen-month-old son, but I did my best to hide it from him and the world. Better me than him, I always reminded myself.

Rationally I knew the likelihood was strong that I’d be back home with him soon, and all would be well. But life had fucked with my ability to put logic over anxiety, particularly when it came to Danny.

“Here,” Dakota said, handing me a damp paper towel to wipe off his hands. “He got into his dinner tonight.”

As I cleaned Danny’s fingers, I tried to figure out what was all over them. It didn’t look like the chicken and green beans I’d prepared before my shower.

“What did he eat?” I asked my sister.

“Animal crackers,” she said. “A camel and an elephant, right, bud?”

“Ephant.” Danny gazed up at me with those irresistible, always curious blue eyes and a happy grin.

I tapped him on the nose affectionately, reining in my annoyance with my sister as I looked around for his purple toddler plate and spotted it—with minibites of chicken breast still on it—on the counter by the sink.

“Dakota,” I bit out quietly, “you know he only gets sugar on special occasions.”

“We decided Saturday night with Aunt Dakota is a special occasion.”

“He didn’t even finish his dinner.”

“He ate all his green beans,” my sister said. “Those got him extra credit.”

“That’s not how this works,” I said. “Show me your other hand, Daniel.”

On his own schedule, my son slowly held up his other cookie-sogged hand, and I had to grin in spite of my irritation with my sister.

“Dinner is a two-handed, full-contact sport, huh, bud?” I said as I scrubbed his fingers. Once he was clean, I removed his soiled bib and lifted him from the high chair. “Come here.”

Danny stretched his arms out to me and puckered his lips to give me a kiss. Just like always, that got to me like nothing else on the planet could.

I kissed him, then squeezed him to me and gave him a growly hug, eliciting that giggle I loved.

“You be a good boy for Aunt Dakota,” I said. “Or maybe I should be telling you to keep her in line.”

“Funny man,” my sister said.

“I’m not even joking. Bye-bye, Danny.” I kissed my boy’s forehead and set him on the floor.

“Bye!” He took off toward the toy box in the living room.

“Please get him to bed by eight.” There was a pleading tone to my voice, completely justified with my free-spirited sister.

“We’ll do our best.”

“Dakota—”

“Max, relax,” she said lightly. “It’s so easy to get you ruffled.” She walked up to me and adjusted my bow tie even though I just had. “This isn’t my first rodeo with this little cowboy. He’ll be fine. Promise.”

I growled but tried to relax a degree because I knew what she said was true. I was being a dick, and it had nothing to do with my sister and everything to do with the nervousness that had plagued me every day for more than a year.