Page 161 of The Single Dad

I shake my head. “Nope. It’s crazy, right?”

“That’s a lot of money to throw around for a gesture.”

“It is,” I say. The ache in my heart swells again at the reminder.

“So… what did you say?”

“I told him I couldn’t.” I take a sip of my tequila, my nose wrinkling in disgust at the sharp, acidic taste. That’s what I get, for ordering a cheap liquor neat. “I don’t want to be the scandalous nanny he’s sleeping with, and I don’t think we could move past that. I don’t think it’s possible.”

Olivia nods, her expression sympathetic. “Definitely. I think you made the right choice.”

“I see him around sometimes,” I admit. “At the community center. We both have a connection to it now, so he’ll be in and out, and I see him in passing. It sucks, every time. It hurts.”

Olivia reaches across the table, laying a hand on my forearm. “Don’t let that take away from your happiness,” she says. “You have your dream job.”

“I know.” I lean my head on my hand, staring down at the glass of golden tequila. “And it’s worth holding out for someone else. Someone who’s going to love me like I deserve to be loved.”

“Exactly,” Olivia agrees, giving my arm a firm squeeze. “You just need to move on. You’ve got this. There’s someone better out there for you.”

I nod, trying to put an optimistic expression on my face. But it’s hard.

Because the truth is, I’m not sure there is.

* * *

Cole

The air is wet in the aftermath of rain, and there’s condensation beading on the surface of the polished gravestones at Woodlawn cemetery. I kneel into the dewey grass regardless, ignoring the dampness, and lay a bouquet of fresh daffodils in front of Rebecca’s grave.

They were her favorite. Every springtime, as kids, we had a competition to see which of us could find the first daffodil shoots of the season.

I take a deep breath, looking up at the gray sky, fading quickly into blue. I haven’t been here enough; not since the funeral. It’s a pleasant place, if you can ignore the grief that hangs in the air. There are trees here, and it’s an open stretch of green, with more of a rural feeling than most places in New York City.

“I should’ve come to visit you sooner,” I say quietly, returning my gaze to Rebecca’s gravestone. Her name is etched into the granite, above the epitaph, Loving mother and sister. “I’m sorry. I feel like I let you down.”

In more ways than one, I realize. I feel like I can’t stop letting her down.

“I should’ve protected you better. I wish things had been different. I wish I would’ve… I don’t know, seen the signs. If I had done something—if I had been there—you could’ve asked me for help. I would have done anything for you.”

The idea of talking to my sister’s grave, as if she can hear me, is a relatively new one, suggested by Declan and Reed the last time I saw them. It should have occurred to me a long time ago. I’ve been chasing this closure for so long.

“You should see Archer,” I say, a sense of pride swelling within me at the thought of the little boy’s bright smile. “He’s amazing. He’s the best kid in the whole world.”

My sister didn’t get much time to know Archie, but she loved him with all of her heart, just like I do. I hope that, somehow, she can see what a wonderful person he’s growing into.

“I want to do right by him so badly,” I whisper, as if afraid someone else will overhear. These words are only for Rebecca. “I owe it to you, and to him. But I’m afraid that I’ve been holding on too tight.”

The breeze picks up a little, and the damp grass sways around me. The trees rustle, shedding droplets of water as if the rain has returned.

“I’m so, so scared to fuck this up. And I’ve already let that fear ruin everything.” I take a shaky breath; there are tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, an unfamiliar sting. “I let go of someone I care about. I pushed her away, because I was trying to control everything. Because I thought it was the only thing I could do.”

As I finish speaking, my throat constricts. Everything I’m telling my sister, all of these lessons I’m starting to learn, were all things that Riley already knew. I miss her so much that it hurts. Doing all of this with her was so much easier.

I break down, the tears finally falling, and hunch over my sister’s grave.

“Please, forgive me,” I whisper desperately.

Another gust of wind blows past, stirring the daffodils at the foot of the grave. The air carries a sweet scent, like flowers, and the promise of more rain to come.

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