Page 90 of If You Give a Single Dad a Nanny

“What if she decides she loves Paris more and doesn’t come back? Or what if she isn’t content with life in Aspen Grove with Lola and me?

My mom offers me a sympathetic look as she takes a seat next to me on the stairs. She places her hand on my knee, offering her support. “Sweetheart, Marlow isn’t Maddie,” she says earnestly. “She knew from the start that you and Lola came as a package deal, and she still grew to love you both, regardless.”

Although I rarely let it show, it almost destroyed me when Maddie left. Lola wasn’t the only one she left behind. At first, I carried the weight of blame on my shoulders. I used to believe that if I had been a more attentive partner or had accommodated her wishes, she would have stayed. It took a long time for me to come to terms with the fact that nothing I could have done would have changed the outcome.

My mom is right. Marlow is nothing like Maddie. She’s compassionate, selfless, and nurturing. Instead of celebrating her once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, her immediate reaction was to worry about its effect on Lola and me.

“Have I told you the story about how I met your father?” my mom asks.

I shake my head. My parents rarely share details about their lives before my siblings and I were born, so I’m intrigued.

“When we met, he lived in New York, learning the ropes at Stafford Holdings. I was a sophomore in college in California. I worked part time as an assistant at a law firm that did business with Stafford Holdings regarding their properties on the west coast, and your father occasionally flew in for in-person meetings.

He asked me out for dinner the day we met, and I was instantly smitten. I thought we had an incredible time and was sorely disappointed when he didn’t contact me again before he left for New York.”

I pick up my coffee and take a sip as I listen intently.

“After that, like clockwork, he flew in every three months. He’d invite me to dinner while he was in town, we’d have a wonderful time, and then he’d go back home.” She shakes her head as if still disappointed by my dad’s decision all these years later.

“A month before I graduated college, your father came into town for one of his business trips. He was furious when I declined his invitation to dinner,” she says with a twinkle in her eye. “I told him I was seeing someone else and had no intention of waiting around for him if he was only going to string me along.”

I let out a low whistle. “Damn, Mom, I’m impressed.”

“Watch your language,” she scolds me before continuing her story. “Your father confessed that he knew that he was going to marry me the first time he saw me. When he found out how important it was to me that I got my college degree, he waited to pursue anything serious until I graduated. Sure, he could have gone about it differently. But in the end, what impressed me most was his willingness to sacrifice his immediate gratification so I could achieve my dreams.”

“What happened to the other guy?” I can’t help but ask.

“What other guy?” she says, seeming genuinely confused.

“The one you told Dad you were dating.”

“There wasn’t anyone else.” She gives me a mischievous grin. “I couldn’t wait around forever, so I had to give your father a little push in the right direction.”

Why does it not surprise me that my mom played a crucial role in orchestrating her own relationship?

Now that I’ve heard the story, I understand why my dad made the decision he did. He must have cared for my mom deeply and wanted her to be happy, regardless of the sacrifices he had to make.

I want the same for Marlow. She should be with someone who champions her ambitions, not restrains them.

“Marlow’s worth waiting for,” I say, more to myself than anything.

She’s like the sun, and we’re all lucky enough to be in her orbit, basking in her warmth. She deserves nothing less than unwavering support as she chases her dreams, and I’m committed to making sure she has it.

“How did you know?” I ask my mom.

“Know what, sweetheart?”

“You were very persistent in getting Marlow and me together. How did you know it would pay off?”

She shoots me a bewildered glance. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“Come on, Mom,” I challenge her. “You set us up on multiple occasions. There’s no way you can tell me that wasn’t planned.”

“Sweetheart, you’re giving me too much credit.” She dismisses me with a wave of her hand. “I merely mentioned certain events to multiple people. I couldn’t have known you’d both show up.” She shrugs casually.

Unbelievable.

I suspect she’ll never admit to her involvement in getting Marrow and me together. At least I know the truth, and I’ll always be grateful for what she did.

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