Page 149 of Scouting the Single Dad

We make each other come apart like two adults who are finally pulling our lives together, and when we come and go still—foreheads pressed together, breath shared—the uncertainty we dragged into this room with us is gone.

Tomorrow might be complicated.

But tonight is simple: I choose him.

Chapter 39

Hayes

One month later . . .

“Benny. I have a surprise for you!”

It’s Saturday. I’ve got film in an hour, a game tomorrow, and a knot of nerves that feels dumber than any playoff pressure, because this isn’t about yards or stats.

This is bigger.

This is our life.

My daughter doesn’t come busting out of her room the way I expect her to, so I go to the bottom of the stairs and shout again.

I move to the bottom step and cup my hands around my mouth. “Bernadette. Are you listening?”

A beat. Then a muffled “I’m doing something!”

I glance toward the kitchen. Layla’s there in one of my old team tees, sleeves rolled to her shoulders, hair in a knot that’s losing the fight because she took the first flight out and beelined here from the airport. No makeup. Sleep in her eyes.

Nerves everywhere.

My chest does that dumb squeeze it’s been doing for a month—ever since we picked a date and booked her airfare and paid a company to pack up the shit in her apartment and haul it to a storage unit for the winter.

The plan came together in pieces: a lot of late-night calls, one spectacular fight that—thank God—we didn’t let turn into a breakup, her job being the big hurdle.

She hadn’t wanted to quit—of course she hadn’t. The city hall’s rec department owes her a favor after the Fall Fest miracle; they signed off on a seasonal flex employment so she can finish winter programming from here and fly back for a couple of weekend events.

She’s nervous as hell. Hiding for the big reveal we’ve been gearing up for for a month.

I grin up the stairs again and increase my volume. “Too busy for a surprise?”

That gets Benny’s attention.

Thudding footsteps overhead, a door flung open. She appears on the landing in mismatched socks and wild hair, eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Did you finally buy me a hedgehog?”

A hedgehog? What the fuck. “No hedgehog.”

She groans like I just canceled summer. “Then what?”

“Stop being sassy.” I can’t keep the stupid smile off my face. I tip my head toward the kitchen. “You’re gonna wanna come down so you can open it.”

She barrels down the steps, takes the turn, yanks the door wide—

—and freezes.

“Whoa. Holy crap. Layla? What are you doing here?”

“Surprise!” Layla and I shout together, throwing up our arms as if we’re throwing Benny a birthday party.

My daughter spins to face me, eyes wide. “Is she the surprise?”