Page 107 of Scouting the Single Dad

I blink. “For what? Please say ‘cult.’”

“For a studio,” she says, grin blooming. “Downtown. The lease. It’s mine.”

I haven’t mentioned this before, but Faith is an interior designer. She’s taken dozens of lake homes and transformed them into cozy retreats, sophisticated spaces, and rustic retreats. And she’s been working out of a corner of her tiny cottage for years, sketching layouts and mood boards, waiting for the right place to come along.

I sit up straight so fast that water sloshes over the edge of the hot tub. “Stop it, you did not!”

“I did.” She’s beaming, cheeks pink from triumph. “I’ve got a contractor who doesn’t seem like a scammer and a spreadsheet of repairs that makes me want to cry.” She takes a sip from her glass. “But it’s mine.”

The happy hits clean and bright. “Faith, this is huge.”

“It is.” She pops an almond into her mouth. “And also—because the universe enjoys chaos—you know Caleb from the kayak shop?”

Who could forget? He blew into town from Colorado but had a girlfriend at the time. The plaid-wearing do-gooder who said “mountain vibes” every third sentence and made it known they were together.

“Who could forget those forearms.” I nod.

“Well. He asked me out. For an actual dinner that isn’t tacos.”

I slap the water. “Our girl is thriving!”

“Obviously I had to turn him down. He didn’t realize I was seeing someone,” she says, and then her eyes go soft. She nudges the plate toward me. “Your turn.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready to move on from your news. That is some good shit!”

Faith rolls her eyes. “Please. I’ve been content with the random text messages and that phone call, but now you’re back in Star Lake and I want the details.”

I take a brownie chunk from the charcuterie board, chew, and stare at the steam until she nudges me beneath the water with her toe. “I don’t know where to start.”

She doesn’t fill the silence. Rather, she lets me stew.

“Fine.” I swallow the brownie. “He’s easy to be around. No performative man stuff. And Benny is this little ray of sunshine, and the whole time I kept thinking how sweet and perfect these two humans are. It’s like they were meant to be.”

The perfect pair: father and daughter.

Faith’s mouth tilts. “Uh-huh . . .”

“And then I got on a plane. It felt . . .”

Horrible. Sad.

I felt empty?

“I’m being so dramatic about this.”

“You’re not being dramatic. You’re . . .” She pauses. “He was the last person you expected to come along and sweep you off your feet.”

I nod. There are no truer words. “I want to keep talking to him. I want to see if this survives real life.” I pick at a strawberry. “But. You know—I’ve never had a long-distance relationship, and it’s not like I’m going to do something nutty like move for some man.”

Faith shakes her head. “Don’t you dare move. I need you here.”

“I know.” I take a bite from the bottom of the strawberry and chew. “Listen, he hasn’t even messaged me, so who knows. Maybe he never wants to see me again.”

Faith splashes more water at me, sharper this time. “No. Don’t twist it like that. He’s into you.”

I wipe droplets off my face, scowling. “Then why radio silence?”

“Because he’s a single dad, Layla. His life isn’t exactly built for constant texting. He’s a dad. Like, his one job is making sure his kid doesn’t only eat Goldfish crackers for dinner.”