Stuck With the Grumpy Single Dad

8. Chapter Seven Matt

Chapter Seven: Matt

A cross the table from me, Mia and Ava sit with matching looks of concentration on their faces as they peruse the menu. I’m having a hard time focusing on my own, what with the cacophony of Boston surrounding us on all sides. Then again, it’s my fault for letting the twins choose a restaurant for late lunch right in the center of Faneuil Hall, one of the busiest areas of the city.

Still, today is all about them. They start school in three weeks, and it’s the first time in their lives that I actually have the financial means to spoil them in preparation for a new school year. Even though I’m not a fan of shopping, I was excited to be able to give the girls whatever they want. Within reason, of course.

Despite that, the girls have been surprisingly restrained and frugal today. The truck is full of shopping bags stuffed with clothes and shoes and girly little accessories, but they didn’t even try to go overboard.

It’s almost like, just like me, they still feel like none of this is real. Like, any minute now, we’ll be thrust back into our old lives .

I’m trying not to let those worries take center stage right now, though. Today’s been a good day—one of the first days in recent memory where I’ve been able to spend time with my daughters without thinking about work or clients or debt or the mortgage… it feels weird. Nice, but weird.

“Daddy, what’s edamame?” Mia asks. She fiddles with one of the beaded bracelets on her wrist.

“No idea,” I tell her.

“You can look it up on your phone,” she suggests.

“I suppose I could. Or we could ask the waiter.”

“You’re so old-fashioned,” Ava giggles, pulling a stray leaf out of her hair with a confused frown. How that girl manages to look like she’s just emerged from the forest at all times is beyond me. I swear I make her brush her hair.

Mia sits up a little straighter. “You know, Dad, if me and Ava had our own phones, then we could look up answers to our questions on the internet without having to ask you.”

Beside her, Ava grins.

I stare at them, menu forgotten. Somewhere on the street, a car horn honks angrily and a passerby shouts back at it. Honestly, I can’t wait to get back to the peace and quiet of Mermaid Shores.

“You girls want phones, huh?” I reply.

“Dad, we were the only kids in sixth grade who didn’t have phones yet, and now we’re going to be seventh graders. Please .”

“Yeah, Dad, pleeeease?”

I shrug. “Well, you’re turning thirteen in a couple months. I personally didn’t have a cell phone until I was eighteen and could afford to buy my own, but times have changed. Sure. We’ll go to the store tomorrow.”

The girls gape at me.

“Wait… seriously?” Mia replies.

“It was that easy?” Ava asks.

I snort. “Girls, we’re in a new town and you’re starting a new school. Our lives have completely changed. It would actually make me feel a lot better to know that I can reach you on your phones in an emergency.”

“Wow,” they murmur in unison.

“But we’re going to discuss parental blocks. No Twitter or Snapchat or whatever until you’re at least sixteen.”

“Dad, nobody uses Twitter anymore. Plus, it’s called X now.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Fine,” they grumble.

The waiter comes by to take our orders. He’s in his early twenties with blue hair and an impressive array of piercings. Maybe he’s an art student working part-time to make ends meet. Even though he’s nice enough, and humors the girls when they interrogate him about edamame, a tiny voice in the back of my head wishes that it was a certain redhead taking care of us instead.

Which is ridiculous, because not only have we not gone back to that restaurant down on Main Street, but I also can’t stand that redhead. Not one bit.

Mabel, she said her name was. It’s a pretty name.

Still, she made herself clear that day we met. She doesn’t like kids, which means she’s not the sort of person I want in my life. No matter how many delicious pastries she drops off at the house.

And, funnily enough, she didn’t even realize that it was my house she was dropping them off at. She thought I was just another laborer. Not that I can blame her. I look the part, and I was literally on the roof .

But, still. She’s clearly made some assumptions, and I’m not interested in correcting them. I’m sure that as soon as she learns who really owns Beaufort Manor now, she’ll go blabbing the news to the entire town. She seems the talkative type.

“Daddy, who was that red-haired lady who came by the house the other day?” asks Mia all of a sudden.

I blink in surprise. I swear, sometimes my girls can read my mind.

“Was she your friend?” Ava asks before I can figure out how to answer.

“No.”

“Why not? She was really pretty,” Mia says.

“She works at the restaurant we went to,” Ava adds. “Can we go eat there again soon? She was so nice.”

I grit my teeth. “I don’t know, girls.”

“Do you not like her?” Mia inquires. “I thought boys were supposed to like pretty girls.”

“Yeah, you’re pretty, Dad. Like, for a boy, I mean. You two could be pretty together .” Ava wiggles her eyebrows. Mia bursts out laughing.

“What exactly do you mean by that?”

The girls give me faux expressions of innocence. I shake my head.

“Let’s talk about something else. Ava, what do you think about playing soccer this year?”

Ava gasps as if I’ve just offered to convert the manor into our own personal candy factory.

“Can I really?” Her eyes light up with pure joy, and it nearly breaks my heart.

“Of course, you can. We can go get you the gear when we’re done eating.”

“Oh my goodness, Dad! Really, really? ”

“Really, really.”

She looks like she’s about to cry from happiness. Mia giggles and squeezes her sister’s shoulder.

For the past couple years, the girls have been doing track and cross-country at their old school. They’re the cheapest sports, after all. Running shoes can easily be found at the thrift store, and the school provided the uniform at a discount for our income bracket.

Still, I’ve always known Ava has wanted to try other sports, especially soccer. But there’s all the equipment involved, plus a lot more travel for games around the state. It just wasn’t something we could afford.

Now, they finally get the freedom to choose what they want to try. I only wish it had been possible for them from the start. I’ll never be able to make up for the first twelve years of their lives, when everything was about pinching pennies and avoiding expensive hobbies.

My biggest fear is that I’ve actually been a terrible father because I haven’t been able to provide them with all the opportunities they deserve. An old friend of mine constantly tried to tell me that wasn’t true, but it’s always been difficult to believe otherwise.

“What about you, Mia?” I ask. “You want to do cross-country this fall? Or try something new?”

Mia chews on her bottom lip for a moment. “Actually, I saw the school has, like, this huge science and technology center—and they have a robotics club! I want to try that.”

“Robotics? Great! You can build a robot that’ll keep your room clean so that I can stop asking you to tidy up every single day.”

Mia giggles. “So, I can do it?”

“Of course.”

The girls grin at each other .

Rest in peace, Roger Beaufort, I find myself thinking. I’m sorry you had to pass away for this to happen, but I hope you know how grateful I am that you changed our lives .