Annabelle was done. The little boy had taken her airplane from her, and she was starting to cry. Logan lunged forward to scoop her up. “You have to share, pumpkin.”
“Sharing is for stupid heads!” shouted Annabelle.
“Okay, time for time out.” Logan shook his head. “You know we can only stay here when you play nice.”
“He stole my airplane,” wailed Annabelle. Her face was red now and her fists were tight. “Make him give it back.”
“I will not,” said Logan calmly. “You’re going home now.”
“Why are you being mean, Daddy?” Annabelle knew how to pull the right strings.
“He’s not being mean. Playtime is just over, sweetheart.”
She was starting to breathe a little more slowly. “Can we play tea party at home?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” She stuck her thumb in her mouth. “I was done anyway.”
And just like that, her tantrum was over. I was relieved that Logan knew how to stop her tantrums. We went back to the car, Annabelle consented to being seat-belted into her car seat, and we drove back to Carmel. Annabelle fell asleep on the way back, so Logan carried her out of the car and into her bedroom. She didn’t protest at all, worn out from playing so much. She was still at the age where nap time was a good reprieve from chasing a kid around.
“I normally work when she’s down for a nap,” Logan said to me.
“I’m banned from checking my emails right now. My assistant changed my password and everything.” I shrugged. “But I could watch TV while you work.”
“Great. I don’t have cable, but I have Disney Plus.” He handed me the remote to his TV. “Go wild.”
He got out a lap desk so that he could work while I surfed around Disney Plus. There was plenty there for adults. They had National Geographic stuff. I settled one watching old and new Pixar shorts. I remembered some of them, but Luxo Jr. was a cute short that I’d never seen before.
It felt cozy to just wait for the baby to sleep while quietly watching TV next to Logan. We had always been good at working in companionable silence. Back in high school, we had done our homework together. Now, I was on an enforced break from work. It was funny how being a millionaire changed almost nothing at all. Both of us prized silence when it came to concentrating.
Logan broke the silence. “Are you hungry?”
Chapter 12
I wasn’t. “I can eat if you want to.”
“Annabelle just needs microwaved nuggets. I normally have my executive chef service bring in meals, but they’re closed down this week. How does pizza sound?”
“Pizza sounds great.” Logan and I had almost identical tastes in food, so we didn’t need to confer on what to get. He had pepperoni and mushroom pizzas just like I did. He called into the local pizza store and got extra pepperoni, which was new.
By the time that the pizza came, Logan had closed his laptop. The doorbell woke up Annabelle, who started to scream, “Daddy!”
“Can you get her?” asked Logan. He was trying to pay the pizza guy.
“Sure,” I said and went to her bedroom. “Hi, sweetheart.”
“You’re not my daddy,” pouted Annabelle.
“He’s getting pizza.”
“With extra pepperoni?” asked Annabelle.
“Yup.”
“I love pepperoni,” she declared.
“Are you the reason he gets extra?”
“Yeah, because he loves me extra.” Annabelle dove into my arms from her bed. It seemed that I was going to be carrying her into the kitchen. When we got there, Logan was opening the box. It smelled fantastic. I set her down in her highchair.
“I get the garlic sauce!” yelled Annabelle.
“Indoor voice,” Logan said. “And of course you can get the garlic sauce.” He set the little garlic sauce cup in front of her. Then he was getting out a knife to cut Annabelle’s pizza into bite-sized pieces. She was impatiently pulling at the garlic cup. I was surprised that a three-year-old could even open it without spilling everywhere.
“She loves pizza, so we get it at least once a week. They know her order,” Logan explained. He was done cutting her pizza now. He put a brightly colored Minnie Mouse plate in front of her. She dug in with gusto.
Logan and I ate our pizza slices with our hands. It was like deja vu, but Annabelle made everything different. I could see Romi’s eyes in her face, but otherwise she looked like Logan. Annabelle had tons of energy and the firm knowledge that every adult around her was there for her convenience, nothing more. She made me laugh with her self-confidence; she was a little spoiled. The extra pepperoni definitely added a kick that I liked. I thought that little kids didn’t like spicy food, but Annabelle was happy enough to eat the pepperoni.
“I’m done!” proclaimed Annabelle. “Tea party time.”
“Wait until the adults are done. But you can set up your tea party set,” Logan said.
Logan and I made a dent on the rest of the pizza while Annabelle got out her tea party set and some stuffed animals to also attend her tea party. As soon as I was full, I got up and threw away the paper plate that was all greasy from the slices of pizza. “I’m stuffed.”
Logan was done, too. He was getting up to throw away his plate, too. Annabelle’s plate was the only one that we’d need to wash. I figured that a single dad made things easy on himself.
Logan and I sat down for a tea party, which lasted for about 5 minutes before Annabelle wanted to do something else. Logan cleaned up the table then as I played with mega blocks with Annabelle. She liked to build up walls that she just got to knock over. She started to get sleepy again and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand.
“I’ll put her down for a nap,” said Logan. She put her cheek down on his shoulder as he swept her away. It was really cute to watch them together. I would never have guessed that Logan would become a single dad. But he was great at it. He put her back to bed without any trouble, since she was so tired.
“What do you do for fun?” I asked Logan when he came back out.
Chapter 13
“Work out when I can get the nanny to stay extra time. I have some buddies who play doubles tennis with me once in a while. How about you?”
“I haven’t had spare time in a while. I guess I just read, but you already knew that.”
“No other hobbies?”
“Not right now.”
“Didn’t you used to crochet? I have a scarf somewhere…”
“I used to, but I don’t even have a crochet hook in New York. It’s something that’s probably still in my bedroom here.”
“You could knit Annabelle a scarf or a blanket.”
“I don’t have any material or a crochet hook with me. I can call my mom to ask her where my stuff is, though.”
“Go ahead.”
I shrugged and got out my phone. “Mom, do you still have my sewing chest?”
“Yes, sweetheart. And hello to you, too.”
“Hi Mom. I’m doing fine. Can I swing by the house and get my sewing chest?”