Page 2 of The Single Dad

“I’m thirsty,” Archie says tiredly, rubbing one eye.

“Thirsty, huh?” I scoop him up into my arms and start down the hallway, toward the kitchen. “Well, we’d better get you some water. Maybe we need to start putting an extra sippy cup by your bed. What do you think?”

Archie nods. He seems like he’s still half asleep, blinking in the hallway light. At five years old, Archie is usually tired by seven and fast asleep by eight, so one in the morning is a little bit of a stretch for his endurance.

I set Archie on the counter while I root around in the cupboard for a plastic cup—lots of plastic in this house, ever since Archie moved in.. I pour him some water out of the tap in the fridge, then hand him the cup.

Watching him sip the water, his feet swinging on the counter as he wakes up a little, I can’t help but smile. He’s a good kid. The best.

As Archie is finishing his water, I hear a little gasp from behind me. I look over my shoulder to see the woman I was with. She’s wearing one of my shirts, which hangs off of her body, covering her up. She probably thinks that’s supposed to be cute, or something, but it brings a scowl to my face.

She coos at Archie, waving at him with her fingertips. “Oh, look at you! Aren’t you sweet?”

Archie stares at her, then tips his head to one side, like a confused puppy. Fury burns through me. I told her to stay upstairs. Can’t she follow one simple instruction?

But I don’t want to let Archie see my anger, so I force a tight, reluctant smile onto my face.

“He was just heading back to bed,” I say shortly. I pick Archie back up, carrying him off toward his bedroom. He gawks at the woman over my shoulder, and I hear her laugh.

I pull Archie’s covers back as he gets settled, then tuck him in, pulling the blanket all the way up to his chin. He blinks at me, more awake now.

“Who was that woman?” he asks.

I restrain myself from clicking my tongue in annoyance, forcing another smile. “She’s just a visitor,” I say. “And she’s about to go home. It’s way too late for visitors.”

I ruffle Archie’s hair, then stand, crossing his room to turn off the light. I watch him from the doorway as he starts to drift off to sleep, curling up on his pillow.

For a long time, I’ve felt like I’m doing a shitty job raising him. The other day, while playing poker with Declan and Reed, I voiced that concern for the hundredth time, and my friends managed to dig up a new piece of advice, which I’ve been turning over in my head ever since.

They told me that I’ve been doing the best I can do to raise Archie since my sister’s death, but that it might be time to find some help. Hire a nanny.

Maybe I do need to hire a nanny. Archie’s getting older. He needs more attention than I’m able to give him alone.

I close Archie’s door slowly, trying to make sure the hinges don’t squeak and wake him. Out in the hallway, I sigh. Somewhere in this house, I have one more fire to put out tonight.

I’m not sure if she’s still in the kitchen, but I head back to my bedroom regardless. Either she’ll be there, in which case I can tell her to get out, or she won’t, in which case I can forget about her and pass out. I’m tired, and Archie wakes up early in the mornings.

But when I get back to the bedroom, she’s there. Sitting on my bed, a huge grin on her face, perched on her knees like she’s ready for round two.

My jaw tightens. “You can go now,” I tell her coldly.

She blinks, the eagerness fading from her expression, to be replaced by surprise. “Wait—are you joking?”

“No.” I point to the bedroom door. “I’m not.”

“Are you mad that I came downstairs?” She pouts at me, sticking out her lower lip.

“It’s time for you to go,” I say, my tone icy. “Don’t make me ask again.”

All of the playfulness vanishes from her eyes. She whips my shirt off over her head, revealing her naked body once more as if unveiling a trump card.

I glare at her. I don’t have the patience for this—not after what she just pulled, and not this late at night. “Come on. I’m serious.”

She scowls and starts to grumble, climbing out of the bed and picking up her clothing from the floor one article at a time. She dresses herself, then seizes her purse off of the nightstand and marches to the door, sniffing at me in distaste.

I follow her out into the hall, then stand on the landing to make sure she actually leaves. Once she’s gone, I head downstairs to lock the door.

Before I sleep, I take a quick shower to rinse the scent of her perfume from my body. I don’t want to wake up with it lingering in my hair tomorrow.

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