Page 5 of The Single Dad

“That’s okay, Noah. Take your call.”

“I’ll text you later about a time, okay? And, hey—don’t think too much about that interview. Those people were idiots, and they don’t know what they’re missing.”

I smile despite my still-lingering disappointment. “Okay, Noah. Thanks.”

“See you later.”

He hangs up the call, and I sigh, dropping my phone onto the couch. I stare at the open laptop screen and the rejection email for a few more minutes, as if I can analyze every letter of that cursed message and somehow figure out what went wrong.

It’s pointless, of course. I already know what went wrong. I’m picky about the jobs I apply for—maybe too picky. I was worried that I wasn’t qualified for this one from the beginning, and was lucky to have gotten to the interview stage at all.

With another heavy sigh, I close the laptop lid and get to my feet, stretching. Today has been long, and tiring, and I just want to be done with it.

It’s dark outside, but only just—can’t be any later than nine. But I want to get to bed anyway. I’m exhausted, both physically and emotionally. I just have to update my grocery list before I forget.

I slip into the kitchen and make a couple of amendments to the shopping list that’s magnetized to the fridge.

Paper towels. Olive oil. Hand soap.

I pause to think for a moment before adding…

Ice cream.

After all of this disappointment, I think I deserve a treat.

Chapter 2

Riley

On Sunday afternoon, I head over to Noah’s place, as we discussed over the phone. I take the subway and walk the last few blocks on foot. Hopefully, he’ll let me take a load off once I arrive.

When I reach the address Noah texted to me, I’m met with a huge, impressive-looking townhouse.

It looks old—brick foundations, black, wrought-iron gate out front. The gate hangs open, so I let myself past it, staring up at the massive house in awe.

There’s a little garden out front, climbing tendrils of ivy reaching from the trellises onto the house’s facade. They arch over the windows, tiny white flowers blooming on the vines.

I whistle quietly as I approach the front door. I knew that Noah had been doing well for himself, but I didn’t know it was this well.

I knock, then wait a few seconds before Noah appears in the doorway, grinning. He tackles me with a bear-hug, squeezing the air out of me.

“It’s been way too long,” he proclaims, ruffling my hair affectionately. “You look good!”

“Get off me, Noah,” I grumble, pretending to be annoyed as I wriggle out of his grasp. That’s siblings for you. “But yeah, it has been too long. Boy, this house is really something, huh?”

His grin widens. “Come on inside. Let me show you around.”

I follow him into the foyer, marveling at the polished wood and iron lighting fixtures. The inside of the house is every bit as beautiful as the outside—stately and refined, like something out of a magazine.

“So, everything in here is original except for some of the molding, and the kitchen,” Noah says, leading me down a hallway. “That stuff got refurbished last year, just before it went on the market. Honestly, I think I got a pretty good deal on it, considering—”

“Considering how crazy nice it is?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

Noah takes a left turn into an open, airy kitchen. I can’t help my gasp as I follow him inside. It’s a far cry from the narrow space where I cook my meals, where I barely have room to turn around. Noah’s kitchen is massive, with granite countertops and stainless steel appliances. Everything looks brand new.

“Wow,” I say, open-mouthed.

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