“That’s why my wife left,” he’d once told me. “She thinks I’m a miser. ‘Why have all that money if we can’t have fun with it?’ she’d said.”
Personally, I could think of all sorts of ways to have fun with Dylan that didn’t require money. Sure, I was a virgin and had no experience in sex, but I’d read romance and erotica, and had a good imagination. I had fun for free many times alone in the bathtub or in my bed simply thinking about Dylan.
Maisie and I stopped at the grocery store, where I bought all the ingredients for brownies and then I drove her home. I parked in my driveaway, which conveniently was next to Dylan’s driveway. I’d first met him last year when I and two of my college girlfriends rented the house next to his, which he also happened to own.
“Brownies have sugar. My daddy won’t think they’re healthy,” Maisie said as she pulled a chair to the counter where I organized the ingredients.
“These are for your party tomorrow, so I think it will be okay.”
He’d never gotten upset at me for baking with her. He just didn’t want her to get too used to desserts. I respected his wishes, usually. In my mind, a little treat now and then wasn’t bad.
We mixed and stirred, and in a few minutes we had our batter in the oven.
“Can we play a game?” Maisie asked as I turned the oven timer on.
“Yes. What do you want to play?” I looked down at her. She was the perfect mixture of her dad and mom. She had dark hair as they both did, her mom’s striking blue eyes, and Dylan’s wonderful smile. She was sweet like him too.
I was all for women pursuing their dreams, but I couldn’t understand how Veronica, Dylan’s ex, could leave him and Maisie to be a model. She and Dylan seemed to get along all right. Twice in the last year, she’d been in New York with enough free time to visit with Maisie. I suspect she and Dylan engaged in a little horizontal play as well, but within a few days she was off to Rome or Paris or wherever models went, leaving a perfect man and child behind. If they were mine, I’d never leave.
I shook my head free of those thoughts. They weren’t mine. They’d never be mine. I needed to figure out a way to stop my brain from sometimes drifting into fantasyland about them.
“Candyland,” Maisie decided.
“Fun! Why don’t you get it out and set it up on the dining table?” I smiled like it was the most fun idea ever, when in truth, I’d be happy to never play that game again. There was nothing wrong with it. For kindergarteners it was perfect, as it didn’t require reading or math. But I’d played that game so many times; not just with Maisie, but also with other children I babysat back home in Brooklyn where I grew up.
“”Kay.” She rushed out of the kitchen toward her bedroom.
While she got the game ready, I went through the refrigerator looking for what I’d make her for dinner. Dylan usually got home around seven, which was too late for Maisie to eat, so I made her dinner. Most times, I made enough for Dylan too. I figured it would give him more time to spend with Maisie in the evenings if he didn’t have to worry about feeding himself.
We played a game of Candyland and then took the brownies out of the oven to cool. I was able to convince her to go out into the backyard to play instead of more Candyland. We played superheroes until she saved me from the evil bad guy, and then I went in to make her dinner while she played with craft dough.
I was pulling roasted vegetables from the oven when the sound of the door opening and shutting echoed.
“Daddy!” Maisie called out with excitement.
“Hey, lazy Maisie.” His deep baritone voice reached me in the kitchen. I checked my watch. It was almost five thirty.
I exited the kitchen. “You’re home early,” I said when I saw him. I’d been working for Dylan for nearly a year, so you’d think by now I’d be used to seeing him. But every time I took in his t-shirt pulled tight over his broad chest, the fine ass filling his jeans, not to mention the sizable mound under his zipper, I nearly swooned. When he’d smile at me while holding Maisie, I did swoon.
“Yep. I have a new manager at the local gym, and my operations person for the company is back from maternity leave, so I should have some more time for this little peanut.” He lifted Maisie up and blew a raspberry on her belly.
“Daddy.” She laughed, and the sound of it along with the scene was too sweet. I felt a bit like an intruder.
“Dinner will be ready in ten minutes. Maisie, why don’t you set a place for your dad?”
“”Kay.” She wriggled as he put her down and ran past me into the kitchen.
“How was the day?” he asked me.
“Good.”
He sniffed the air. “I think I smell baked sugar.”
I laughed. “Brownies. They’re for Maisie’s class party tomorrow for the last day of school. Will you be able to come?”
Dylan was a hard worker, often putting in long days, but he never missed an activity of Maisie’s. “Absolutely.”
Maisie rushed back into the room. “I got you the Mickey fork, Daddy.”