8. Isaac

Chapter eight

Isaac

T he week after Leo’s little sleepover gave me some time to process my reaction to him. I concluded that I was just lonely, both intimately and for time with friends. I’d spent the whole year focused on my daughter and rearranging my life for her, putting everything else on the back burner.

It wasn’t healthy, and I was planning to invite friends over soon.

Seeing Leo at Dezi’s school on Tuesday morning had my dick twitching in some sort of a Pavlovian response. I avoided him on Halloween by keeping Dezi home to go visit my dad in her costume.

Did I get hard when I saw Leo’s bare chest? Maybe. He was a fit, young man, and it had been far too long. Did I find him fucking adorable when I’d peeked into my room in the early morning to find him snoring softly into my pillow? Okay, yes. But I was a Daddy, both in kink and literally to my daughter. Cute was cute, right?

Groaning, I pressed my head into the top of the refrigerator, letting the cold air from the open door cool my racing blood pressure. I promised myself I’d download a dating app and start chatting with some women, since I clearly needed to scratch the itch.

A knock on the door startled me into closing the fridge. I had forgotten why I opened it anyway.

“Daddy,” Dezi shouted. “Wee-O here!”

Ever since she heard me talking to him the night before, when he’d called to confirm our plans to have him over for dinner, Dezi couldn’t wait to see him. Stepping around the corner to answer the door, I couldn’t deny I was also excited to see him again.

A load had lifted off my shoulders when he came over before, and it had nothing to do with any help or advice he provided. I could have gotten similar from an internet search or a doctor call, and he hadn’t done much, really. It was his willingness to listen and let me unburden myself.

Being a single parent, especially when the role is unexpected, is a heavy weight to carry. A few hours with Leo had made the following days easier.

As I opened the door to find Leo’s sweet smile, I knew I wasn’t only looking to commiserate about parenthood. I wanted to be around him, specifically.

“Hello, Isaac. Hi, Dezi,” Leo greeted us. Holding out a bouquet of brightly colored flowers, he kneeled down to offer them to Dezi. “When someone visits, they should bring a gift. And these are from the Día de los Muertos celebration I went to, today.”

“Fow-ers,” Dezi squealed and took them.

They immediately went into her mouth and I reached out to stop her, but Leo held up a hand, “Marigolds are edible. I figured that would be safer.”

“Thanks for thinking of her oral fixation,” I replied dryly, offering my hand to help him up.

While I was the one in my mid-thirties who sometimes needed help getting back up after kneeling for a while, I was also a gentleman. I’d just never thought about offering my hand to a man. Sure, I held doors for anyone approaching an entrance I was using, but this felt more personal.

“Thanks.” Leo gave me a shy smile, accepting my help and standing with his cold hand in mine. I wanted to hold his slender hands in mine to warm them, maybe pull them to my mouth to breath hot air on them.

Fuck . I didn’t think I was just looking to scratch an itch.

Clearing my throat, I dropped his hand and stepped back. “Come on in. Dinner’s almost ready and it’s warm in here. Do you want a drink? I have water, beer, wine, juice…”

Letting my voice trail off when I realized I was rambling, I heard Leo close the door as his footsteps echoed in the hall behind me. Dezi was babbling to him, so I opened a cabinet to find my one and only vase for the flowers he brought Dezi.

“Water is fine,” Leo told me and I filled a glass for him. “Thank you.”

“Do you have a good time visiting your parents?” I asked after filling the vase with water and handing it to him.

“Their place is always full of people and food,” Leo commented, and I could hear the affection in his tone. He’d told me he was staying down at their place for Día de los Muertos, but I didn’t know much about the holiday. “But it was nice. Nacho had fun.”

“What kinds of things do you do?” I asked before opening the oven to take dinner out. Leo had said he wasn’t a picky eater, so hopefully my salmon and artichokes were a hit.

“We have an Ofrenda for family no longer with us. My mom makes pan de muerto and calaveras de azúcar,” Leo stopped talking and laughed at my expression. “Bread of the dead and sugar skulls,” he translated.

“It’s been twenty years since I took high school Spanish,” I replied with only a bit of embarrassment. “What was the off-ren thing?”

“Ofrenda, like an altar with things for our ancestors. Pictures of them, the bread and skulls, along with a ton of marigolds,” he explained patiently, pointing to the bouquet he’d brought.

“Marigolds,” I nodded, noticing one was beheaded and Dezi was chewing on it while sitting on the floor. “Would you mind putting her in the high chair at the table?”

“Sure,” Leo smiled and scooped her up. He flew her though the air like a plane and pulled a peal of laughter from her. “Flight 505, Dezi air, coming in for a landing,” he spoke as if over a radio, adding plane sound effects as he swooped her into the chair.

The chair she often fought me on going into, but was now happily sitting in with a giant smile for, “Wee-O.”

Leo had the magic touch or something, but I was glad I didn’t have a screaming toddler so I could plate out food. Dezi got pre-cut-up artichoke hearts, while Leo and I had them cut in half and baked with parmesan. I didn’t get a lot of opportunities to cook full meals with Dezi, so I had fun with a new one.

“Ooh, I love artichokes,” Leo commented. “Can I help with anything?”

“No, just enjoy.” Setting Leo’s plate in front of him, I moved around to sit in my own seat. My table was more often used for video calls and folding laundry, so I was glad for the excuse to clean it up. “We never had them when I was growing up, but I saw them at the market and wanted to try the recipe.”

“Well, it all smells delicious,” Leo gave me another sweet smile and I worried I was about to get turned on at the dinner table. I could deal with a sexual awakening, given enough time, but not in front of my daughter.

Speaking of my child… Dezi dug in with her hands and I sighed. “We’ve been working on using utensils.”

“Can’t say I blame her,” Leo giggled when Dezi let out an audible burp. “I feel like she’s complimenting the chef.”

“Sure, let’s go with that,” I replied with a raised brow and dry tone, but couldn’t help joining in his smile.

Yeah, I was in trouble.