Talk about sucking it up for the sake of fatherhood. Watching your baby girl get all primped and primed so she can be mauled by young boys who are going through puberty and probably beat off to Victoria’s Secret magazines. To make matters worse, Charlie is here curling Sydney's hair. The two of them are giggling up in the bathroom with the door closed.

Another problem is that Charlie showed up here with leggings, a short skirt and a tight V-neck shirt that makes it impossible not to remember what it felt like to have her tits in my hands.

The night of her allergic reaction, Charlie slept in our downstairs guest bedroom that Nana and Papa use when they babysit Sydney and I'm out of town. Knowing that only fifty footsteps separated us all night made it impossible to sleep.

Hearing Sydney's confession about fearing I'd die alone was a real eye opener. Not that she said that in so many words, but I got the gist. The last thing I want is for my daughter to not live her life to the fullest because she's scared of me being alone. I want her out there conquering her fears. I don't want to be the anchor that's constantly dragging her down.

Is that why I agreed to stay with Charlie in the hospital? I'm not sure.

Is that why I took Syd to the vending machines and bought food and found a pack of cards from the nurse’s station to play with? I'm not sure.

The only thing I know for sure is that I'm not sure what I'm doing. How’s that for ironic? I know I like being with Charlie. I know I don’t want to shy away from her anymore. But the problem is I also know that I need to figure out exactly what I do want before actively pursuing her because there's no coming back from me hurting her. And the thought of hurting her is like a jagged knife ripping through my stomach.

“Are you ready?” Charlie's sweet voice says from over the banister.

My gaze shifts from the television up to her and I kind of wish she wasn't wearing leggings.

“I suppose.” I stand and round the back of the couch.

Sydney's friends should be here soon and then she's spending the night at Chloe's house.

Charlie disappears for a second and then Sydney walks out of the bathroom and down the stairs.

The black dress is short but not too far above the knee. Her arms are covered. Neckline up to her collarbone.

All in all, I approve.

Her hair is down and in curls, with the front pinned back.

I'm game for this until I see her face.

“Whoa, what's that?” I point to her eyes.

“Just a little eye shadow and mascara.” Charlie tosses off my concern.

“I said no makeup.”

Sydney's shoulders sag and her gaze shoots to Charlie.

“Well, she's twelve and it's a dance.” She digs through her purse and then hands Syd a bottle of something glossy.

“I'm the father remember?”

Charlie nods. “That's hard to forget.”

“Dad, it's just a little. I'm not wearing red lipstick or foundation or anything.”

“For the record, you'll never wear red lipstick,” I say to Syd before directing my attention to Charlie. “I thought we agreed?”

Charlie smirks. “No. You said no makeup, but either I do it here or she does it in the middle school bathroom.”

I look to Sydney waiting for her to refute what Charlie is accusing, but she remains silent and breaks eye contact with me.

“I don’t like the idea of you two working together.” I weave between them as they laugh at me.

The doorbell rings as I'm grabbing a beer for myself, so I set it on the table and head to say goodbye to my girl who looks way closer to sixteen than I'd care to admit.

Chloe and Sasha are in the doorway, each wearing dresses that can’t have much more material to them than a scarf does and a shade of lipstick you’d see on someone ten years their senior.

Charlie shoots me a smug look.

I suppose I should be grateful—it could be worse. I take the deep breath I need to get through this.

“Okay, bye.” Syd waves her hand, but I approach her.

“Hi, Chloe and Sasha,” I say.

“Hi, Mr. Shaw. Miss Rose.” They greet both of us.

“Have fun girls.” Charlie's hip leans on my entry table that has her purse on it.

“Text me when you get back to Chloe's, okay?” I say to Sydney. Pulling out my wallet, I hand her a twenty.

“Thanks, Dad.” She rises on her tiptoes and kisses my cheek and I hug her into my body, wishing she could stay my little girl for a while longer.

She leaves my arms and then walks over to Charlie for a hug.

“Thank you for your help,” she whispers.

“You're welcome,” Charlie says, her eyes finding mine over Syd's shoulder.

Chloe and Sasha stand in the doorway, eyeing our exchange.

“Go, have fun.” Charlie nudges her closer to the door.

One last goodbye and I wave at Chloe's dad as the girls walk toward his truck.

“Why is Miss Rose at your house?” I hear Sasha ask, glancing over her shoulder at the doorway.

“She's friends with my dad.”

“Like friends or like close friends?” Chloe asks and all three of the girls look over right before they get to the truck.

Sydney shrugs. “I don’t even think they know.”

Once the taillights are heading down my driveway, I shut my door, but Charlie has her coat on and her purse slung over her shoulder.

“Are you leaving?” I ask.

“Yep.” She slides by me, the smell of her perfume causing my dick to twitch.

“I thought maybe we could have dinner or go out?”

She lets a sarcastic laugh loose, her back to the door. “Why?”

“Why does there have to be a reason?” I ask her, not ready to put everything out on the table.

“Are you asking me on a date?” she asks, jutting out her hip.

“Why do we have to classify it?” I run my hand down my beard.

Why do women have to make everything so damn difficult?

“Because Garrett, if you want to have dinner with me, then I'm guessing you want my company and that sir, is called a date.”

I shake my head. “Fine, Charlie Rose, will you have dinner with me?”

“No.” She turns the doorknob in her hand and opens the door.

“No?”

“No.” She walks up to me, her chest pressing into mine. “You're a big boy, Garrett and it's time that if you want something, you go after it.”

She shuts the door behind her and I hear her Jeep rev up, driving away a minute later.

What the fuck just happened?