If It Makes You Happy

by Julie Olivia

I sheepishly confess, “Men don’t want women like me.” “Like what?” Unfun, too serious, workaholics. “I don’t know,” I mumble. He gives a devilish, absolutely wicked smile. “I think men secretly want women just like you,” he growls, leaning even closer. “And the men who don’t are cowards.”

I can’t get her flavor out of my mouth. I realize everything I’ve been trying to bake for her is nothing like the real thing. She isn’t cinnamon. She’s honey all the way through, and I need to taste it again.

“What am I—” “You’re always—” “Do you even—” “This is so complicated!” I raise my voice above the jumble of a nothing argument I’ve created. “I want you to be happy and—” His next words almost come out in a whisper. “Have you ever thought I might be happy with you?” I tense, taking in a shaky breath. “You can’t mean that.” “I almost wish I didn’t.” “But you said—” “I say so many things that I don’t know what comes out of my mouth half the time,” he says. “But you do…you make me happy. So, there. I’m stuck in my own damn head with thoughts of you that I can’t get rid of. So, what do I do? Huh? What do I do?”

“Now, back to business…where is Josh?” She tilts her chin down. “Dad.” I playfully hold up my palms. “I want to talk to him—” “Dad,” she warns again, a sliver of a smile on her face. “Me, Josh, and a machete.” “Dad!”

He's an amazing father