Balancing Act

By Lara Norman

As a single father, Lucas Humphries struggles to balance his work life with his daughter's needs. 

I can't even remember what dating is like, so when the woman who runs my daughter's daycare center invites me out for a drink, I don't know how to respond. Callie Bradford has been on the periphery of my life for years, but I've always pictured her as a stern taskmaster, not the beautiful woman I now see standing before me. 

For me, learning to let go of insecurities and single daddy guilt is proving difficult. The last three years have been focused completely on Zoey; will I ever allow myself to be happy as a man, and not just as a father?

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lara Norman
• Release date: Sep 4, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393566922

Lara Norman

Lara used to scribble her fictional characters down on legal pads in high school, and then not show them to anyone. In recent years, she started posting her work in public forums for feedback, which gave her the courage to publish professionally.  She needs copious amounts of coffee and chocolate to survive. She enjoys eavesdropping on the character conversations in her head, which she has been assured doesn’t make her crazy. She always gets the best ideas while in the shower, driving, or about to fall asleep. Though she’s a Florida girl at heart, Lara currently resides in the Blue Ridge Mountains with her husband of twenty years and their three children, where she is living out her own happily ever after with the boy she met at age fifteen.

Book preview

Chapter One

Already late for work , I rushed into my daughter’s room to find that she’d spent her morning coloring on the wall instead of in her coloring book.

Zoey!

She jumped in surprise and immediately looked down at the floor.

What have we talked about? Frustrated, I stalked over to her and grabbed the crayon from her hand. Squatting, I attempted to look her in the eye. We color on paper, Zoey. Nothing else.

Sorry, she mumbled, poking her fingers into her mouth.

Sighing, I ran my hand through my hair. We’re late. Please get your backpack.

Instead of complying, Zoey looked up at me with tears swimming in her soft blue eyes.

What is it? I snapped. I looked where she pointed to find the contents of her backpack dumped out on the floor. Zoey!

She began to cry in earnest then, aggravating me further.

Muttering under my breath as I gathered her things, I stuffed them back in the backpack. I’d be later than I’d thought, and it would be the third time that month. I would lose my mind if not my job, that was for damn sure.

Come on.

Zoey trotted to keep up with my long, angry strides. We hurried down in the elevator and out to the car where I strapped her in without meeting her gaze. She merely sniffled.

The entire ride to the daycare center, guilt ate at me as I ignored her. She was only three, after all, and it wasn't her fault I was running late that morning, even though I would have been right on time without the extra trouble my daughter had given me.

Zoey, no complaining when we get there. Daddy’s running late, so it’s a quick goodbye so I can get to work.

I glanced in the rearview mirror at the miniature version of myself in time to see her nod. Her cheeks were tear-stained and her lower lip puckered out.

Pulling up to the front doors, I didn’t bother to park properly but left the car running as I hefted Zoey out of her booster seat. I carried her so I could walk faster and nearly ran down the hall in the direction of her classroom.

Mr. Humphries, I heard from behind me before we’d gotten very far.

Crap. I almost didn't slow down; almost pretended I didn't hear her. Resigned, I turned. Yes, Ms. Bradford?

Her face was a mask of pleasant patience. As we’ve discussed previously, please refrain from parking in the loading zone.

Flashing my most dazzling smile, I said, I know. Sorry. Running late.

Mr. Humphries, she repeated as I began to walk off again.

Gritting my teeth together so hard I almost couldn't force out an answer, I said, Yes?

Can we have a meeting this evening when you pick up Zoey?

I barely managed to suppress a sigh. Five minutes late was rapidly becoming fifteen. Absolutely. Now, I really have to hurry.

Of course.

I hated the way she stood in the hallway with her conservative pantsuit, hands folded in front of her and silent censure radiating off her in waves. Rushing Zoey into her classroom, I exchanged small talk with the teacher—very small talk—and squatted to say goodbye to my daughter. Zoey, you know how much I love you, right?

She nodded, her fingers in her mouth once more.

Even when I’m angry, I still love you, and I always will.

Finally, she smiled and threw her arms around my neck. Love you, Daddy.

See you later, kiddo. Have fun today.

Once I left the room, I ran, and didn’t care if it did piss off the stuffy Ms. Bradford. I jumped back in my car and did my best to maintain my sanity as I fought morning traffic.

Heading into the glass and steel high-rise building in midtown, I internally cursed my boss for choosing to be on time that day. I slid behind my desk and checked my watch. Ten minutes late. It would be my ass if it happened one more time that month. It didn't seem to matter if I got up an extra half an hour early, there was always something that caused me to run behind. Zoey not wanting to eat what I made for her, a stain on her shirt I had to change, or days like this morning when she went off script and acted out.

Zoey was a very quiet child by nature, or maybe