Page 54 of The Single Dad

“What are you doing here?” Riley’s voice drags my attention back to her. She sounds a little bit accusatory, and I grit my teeth, trying to come up with something reasonable.

“I… realized earlier that I should have offered you a ride home,” I say. She raises an eyebrow at that, the corner of her mouth twisting in suspicion. “It’s a long way to take the subway.”

“Right,” she says skeptically, drawing out the word into multiple syllables. “Okay.”

“So… would you like a ride?”

She shrugs. “You know what? Sure. But I need to stick around here for a while longer.” She gives the girl across the table a bright smile, and the girl grins back. “I still need to beat Tasha at UNO.”

“In your dreams,” says the kid, placing a card between them. “Draw Four.”

While Riley clicks her tongue in staged disappointment, I take a step away from the tables, turning slowly to fully take in my surroundings.

There’s a receptionist’s desk behind me with two workers, one of whom is in conversation with another kid, no older than fifteen. In fact, most of the people in this room are teenagers. Many of them have tattered or faded clothing, and some look like they haven’t showered in a while.

Amidst the kids, sitting with them and talking to them, are a few adults wearing what I realize are similar t-shirts. There are a couple of different colors floating around—powder blue like Riley’s, and purple like the guy in her selfie—but they all have the same logo on the front.

There are signs on the ceiling, pointing the way to showers, a TV room, a gym and a kitchen. It hits me all at once: this is a community center.

Shit. I barged straight in without even thinking to check the fucking map, or check the sign above the door.

Riley’s not on a date. She’s volunteering. At a community center—helping kids who are just like she was, kids who need someone to look out for them.

Jesus. I’m such a fucking idiot.

I clear my throat, approaching Riley at her table. “Is there anything I can do while I’m waiting?”

She frowns, not looking up from her cards. “There’s a coffee shop down the block.”

“I meant something I could do to help.”

At that, she lifts her head and nods in the direction of the back hallway. “They can always use help in the kitchen. Go ask back there.”

Five minutes later, I’m sorting plastic cutlery into paper bags for take-home meals. I keep at it for about twenty minutes before Riley appears in the kitchen doorway to let me know that she’s ready to go.

She’s silent as we walk out to the car, but I can practically hear the gears in her head turning. She’s too smart to have bought my excuses.

Sure enough, the second we get into the car and the doors are closed, she turns to me. “Why did you really come?”

I start the car, letting the purr of the engine momentarily fill the quiet between us. “I… thought you might need rescuing from that guy,” I admit.

“What guy?”

I maneuver the car away from the curb, heading toward the nearest intersection. “The—” I clear my throat. “The guy on your Instagram.”

“You were going through my Instagram?” She sounds incredulous, so I quickly shake my head.

“Not often. I just… happened to check it while I was taking a break from work.”

“And that’s it?” she asks. “You saw a picture of me with some guy and just assumed I was in trouble, or something?”

“Well…” I pause, staring at the road. “I might have been a little jealous.”

I glance at her out of the corner of my eye. She’s biting her lip, her cheeks flushed—and not in pleasure.

“That’s not fair,” she says, clearly miffed. “You don’t get to be jealous if I can’t be.”

We catch a red light. As the car slides to a stop, I stare at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

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