Page 6 of Their Perfect Daddy

SKYE

A nd together, they would take down the demon lord once and for all.

I finish the chapter of this month’s book and take in the analytics on the screen before me. Of my millions of followers, nearly half are tuning into today’s live. It’s more than the last three, which makes me irrationally happy.

This hobby of mine turned business brings me far more joy than it should. Or at least, that’s what the voice in my head that sounds like my mother would say.

Granted, I’m sure a lot of people would agree with her. Especially when my day job is as lucrative as mine.

Being a surgeon for seventeen years means I’m well past the point of eating noodles and trying to make ends meet. More than that, I had a pretty decent head start considering I got a full ride to school back then.

Mom was a single mother of eight thanks to an accident that took my pops when I was a freshman in high school. She spent the next several years alone working multiple jobs to make ends meet and keep us all clothed.

It was because of our living situation that I got the financing I did for school. My good grades and constant volunteer work sealed the deal on me having a spot at any institution I wanted.

Fast forward many sleepless nights and my mother getting remarried later in life, and you’ve got the version of me now: Skye Gellar, renowned surgeon, secret social media star, and reclusive millionaire. If it isn’t work, then I’m not interested.

Most people think it’s because I’m too stuck up to attend their parties and meetings. The truth is that it all bores me to tears. I’d rather be reading in my study at home or visiting various clubs in search of the boy of my dreams.

Despite the latter being something I have worked towards voraciously; I can’t seem to locate my other half. As a man of science, I shouldn’t believe in fate and soul mates. There is no definable proof to show it’s real.

Yet, I long for the reality of having the other half of me show up. I want to be in love more than I want just about anything in this life.

Part of the reason I started this channel with my hands was to occupy my time and to maybe find a Little of my own. The first video I recorded and uploaded glitched on me. Without sound, all the people saw were my hands moving over the page of a book.

The post gained traction beyond what I thought possible. Comments poured in from people wanting more. Some complimented my hands. Others simply wanted the title of the book or to say they wanted to see more of my body.

My followers became the distraction I needed. Outside of work, I focused on building up content. Before I knew it, I’d reached a level to become monetized.

Now, I understand how selfish it sounds. A scholarship kid who turned to social media to earn even more money after becoming a doctor.

It makes me come across as a prick.

Except I don’t blow through the money I earn. My income from my main job finances my home life and all the extras there. The social media cash is twenty-five percent invested to earn towards long-term retirement, and the rest is donated.

Considering it’s a pretty hefty amount each month, I give away quite a bit. My goal has always been to help people. Whether it’s with a scalpel because they wind up on my operating table, or through entertaining them for a few minutes during a live feed, I give it my all.

You’d think I’d be fulfilled from it all too, wouldn’t you?

No matter how much I tell myself it’s a good life, it doesn’t feel that way. Something—or rather, someone—is missing.

I want to find them . Need to , really.

Instead of sinking further into the pit of frustration surrounding my relationship status, I swipe through comments from the live with one hand while the other remains on camera stroking the top of the book.

Even if I remain still, the loyal viewers will stick around.

The movement is merely to keep my brain active while also engaging with them for a little longer.

My evenings are far too lonely without the distraction.

As I look through the various comments, I can’t suppress the smile that comes. Some of them are so outlandish I blush. My fair skin does little to hide it too, making me glad I don’t show my face.

Besides the fact that I don't want my coworkers knowing what I do in my downtime, I also can’t fathom my face being plastered all over the place.

It’s never been my goal to be famous. The few interviews I’ve done for medical journals through the years have all been with pictures from the side or at an angle. I never do portraits full on.

The only time someone gets me facing their camera is when it’s family. My siblings won’t take no for an answer, especially when we’re all together.

As if they can sense I’m thinking of them, a text pops up in the sibling group chat. I don’t want to ignore them, so I log off for the night by giving my signature two finger salute to the screen.

Once the live feed disconnects, I check to see what all they have to say. In the time it takes to log off and switch over, they’ve already shared numerous messages. I scroll back to the top to see what the original request is.

Poppy:

Wedding invites are going out soon. Please be sure to RSVP!

Rayne:

I still can’t believe baby sis is the first to get married. How fucking wild is that?!

Storm:

Luckily he’s a good pick. I’d be hella mad if I had to murder him.

Daisy:

No murder talk! We love Van the Man.

Poppy:

You have got to stop calling him that, D1. He is not some wrestling persona. He’s my future husband.

Daisy:

*Mr. and Mrs. Van the Man

Storm:

Murder is always a discussion topic. I will do what is needed to protect the family. Just ask (redacted).

Gale:

Ohhhhhh. That’s a good one. *air five*

Gale:

I meant about the Mr. and Mrs. thing, not the murder stuff. To be clear!

Dewey:

I still hate that I’m D2. She had a ninety-second head start into this world. Why not use our names?

Gale:

Because it annoys you, Dufus.

Snow:

You really should have stuck with D2. Much better than Dufus. Poppy-girl, when is the date again? I need to request time off. You know the season gets busy for me.

Poppy:

**PDF attachment**

Poppy:

There’s everything you need to know. And I don’t care if it’s the biggest game of the season, they can do without you for a few days.

Snow:

Don’t make me sound replaceable, sis. I’m trying to be the best NFL tech support lead out there. What happens if I’m not around to make sure the system is up? Your fiancé will be devastated when his fantasy league falters.

Daisy:

Ewwwww. Don’t talk about sports here. It’s enough when you do it in person.

I decide to jump in the conversation before those two devolve into a heated argument.

For as much as I love my siblings, they are definitely a handful and a half.

Being the oldest means I was often more a parent than a brother to them.

Even now, it’s hard not to virtually tap them on the nose and insist they stop bickering.

Skye:

Thanks for the reminder, Poppy. I’ll be sure to send mine in. Do you need anything else from me to help with wedding prep?

Poppy:

You’re the best big brother ever! All is well for now.

Gale:

Hey now! You have more than one big brother. Don’t go claiming faves.

Rayne:

I second this motion. Anyone third?

Daisy:

This is not court, Rayne. If you start trying to call character witnesses, we’re going to kick you out of the chat again.

Rayne:

OBJECTION!

Daisy:

*Removed Rayne from chat*

Gale:

*Added Rayne to chat*

Rayne:

VICTORY!!! SPARTA!!!

Snow:

That doesn’t even make sense. *laughing emoji*

Poppy:

I only came in here to tell y’all about the invites. Chill out. I’ve got to get to bed. The bride needs her beauty rest. Love you!!

Poppy:

*Set device to Do Not Disturb*

Dewey:

She’s such an old lady. It’s not even 8 pm.

Daisy:

Says the guy who likes to fish and read the newspaper for fun.

Gale:

D2, you have no room to talk. Must we remind you of the various phases you went through as a kid. Emo D2 was a time…

Dewey:

I plead the fifth!

Rayne:

HEARSAY!

Snow:

You losers have fun bickering. I’m out for the night too. Got a date.

Gale:

Don’t propose this time, please. Let Poppy have her moment.

Snow:

It was ONE time. Calm down, bro.

Skye:

I’m done too. The rest of you behave.

I get a load of replies back telling me I’m not the parent and to let them be.

Laughter bursts out of me when Rayne sends a GIF of Jim Carey in Liar Liar tugging at his hair in the courtroom.

It was one of his favorite movies growing up, hence why he went into law.

We watched it together a ridiculous number of times when I had to babysit for Mom while she worked.

Pushing aside those old memories, I go about my nighttime routine. I shut down everything in my place, making sure the alarm is set, and all electrical appliances are off. Once I’m sure it’s secure, I head upstairs to draw a bath.

Most people would think I was weird for preferring them to showers. My opinion is that a bath is more relaxing. Given what I do for work, it’s crucial I find ways to decompress.

While the water runs, I light a few candles and pick a smooth jazz playlist on my phone. After getting everything just right, I strip and sink under the rolling waves. The jets in the tub work overtime, creating an oasis that’s desperately needed after the tough cases I had today.

Being the best in my field means I’m often called in for the toughest cases. It’s an honor to be able to help people. It’s only when things don’t go as planned that I feel the weight of my work.

Dipping my head beneath the water, I hold my breath and let everything else go. I’m where I’m meant to be. When the time is right, everything else will fall into place. I have to believe that.