Page 163 of The Single Dad

“Which one is the best rock?” Archie asks, pointing to a shelf full of plastic rock formations. There are at least twenty different models. This is an even worse choice than the fish food, and, I suspect, even less consequential.

But to Archie, it’s of vital importance, so I study the rocks with an intense focus.

“It has to be the best rock in the store,” Archie insists. “Because Swimmy is the best fish.”

“Of course, of course,” I murmur. I rifle through the shelf, pulling out a rock from behind the rest. This one has a little cave set into the base, just big enough for a fish to hide inside. “How about this one? It has a little home for him in it.”

Archie takes the rock, turning it over and inspecting it with a critical eye. At long last, he nods. “This is perfect.”

He reaches up to hand it to Cole, who is standing behind him. Cole holds the rock in one hand, looking me up and down with a puzzled expression. “What brings you to the pet store today?” he asks politely.

I shift my weight awkwardly—though I have to admit, things aren’t as stilted with Cole as they’ve been the few times I’ve run into him at the community center. Maybe that means we’re both moving on.

The thought is depressing.

“I actually got a fish myself,” I admit.

Archie’s eyes go wide, and he bounces excitedly. Cole puts a hand on his shoulder to steady him before he can knock down a display of aquatic plants.

“You got a fish?” Archie exclaims. “That’s so cool! What’s his name?”

“You know, I haven’t given him a name yet,” I say. “I couldn’t think of anything. He looks a lot like Swimmy, though, if you want to help me out.”

Archie taps his chin thoughtfully for a few seconds, then exclaims, “You should name him Gill!”

“Gill?”

“Yeah, Gill! Because fish have gills. They use them to breathe. That’s what my teacher told me.”

“You know what? That’s a great name,” I say, grinning. If nothing else, at least my fish got a name out of this run-in with Archie and Cole.

Archie follows me, with Cole just behind him, as I head to the filter aisle to grab what I need. Archie talks at a mile a minute, filling me in on everything I’ve missed since the last time I saw him. He tells me about a new friend he made at pre-K, and a picture he drew of Dino that he can’t wait to show me.

As Archie says this last part, I shoot a guilty glance over at Cole. To my surprise, his expression remains neutral.

Has he really moved on that much?

We all head up to the registers together, and once everything is paid for, I pause by the door awkwardly, glancing back at Archie and Cole.

“Well, it was really nice to run into the two of you,” I begin, expecting to ungracefully part ways.

“You should come have dinner with us!” Archie bursts out loudly—he’s having an energetic day.

I cringe internally, glancing over at Cole. “Um, I don’t know if that’s a good idea, kiddo.”

“But it would be so fun!” Archie cries.

Cole nods, his eyes warm as he meets my gaze. His voice is sincere as he says, “Please. You should join us.”

Whatever I was expecting Cole to say, it wasn’t that. I open my mouth to refuse, then close it, considering. It couldn’t hurt to just go over for dinner. In fact, it might help with the heartache I’ve been feeling—a reminder that time moves on, or something.

“Okay, sure,” I say hesitantly. “I didn’t have anything to do this evening, anyway.”

Rather than taking the subway back to my place, I get into the passenger seat of Cole’s car, parked in an underground parking deck below the pet store. At first, I’m nervous as Cole buckles Archie into his car seat and then takes the wheel.

After the short drive, though, I start to relax.

From the backseat, Archie is reading corny jokes out of a joke book he borrowed from his pre-K classroom. He seems to be trying to make Cole laugh, which, of course, is next to impossible. To make up for Cole’s stoic silence, I offer up an exaggerated fit of giggles at every joke Archie tells.

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