Page 116 of The Single Dad

For a moment, I consider pulling her into my bedroom. It’s against our rules; we agreed that, in order to keep the lines between us professional clear, we would keep our sexual encounters confined to one place. But something about tonight makes me want to break every rule and blur every line.

I stare into her eyes, hesitating.

Then, eventually, reality settles back in. I want to bring her to my room, to throw her down on my bed for a second round, to indulge in every pleasure and to hold her close afterwards, to fall asleep wrapped around her.

But I know that I can’t. However close I felt to her tonight, there’s still one last wall between us, one last layer of protection. I can’t bring myself to break through it. The closer she gets to me, the more likely it is that we both get hurt, and the worse that hurt will be.

I step back after our kiss. I smile, wondering if she can see something a little strained behind the expression. If she can, she doesn’t show it.

“Thank you for a wonderful evening,” I say.

She blushes. “Thank you. I had an amazing time.”

“Good night,” I say, turning toward my room. Before I can close myself in, I hear the click of her own bedroom door closing.

* * *

Riley

The fish section of the pet store is mesmerizing to any kid on Earth, and, let’s be honest, most adults. The rippling sound of a dozen water filters, the sheen of multicolored scales, the low lighting… it’s the perfect place to keep a child entertained.

As soon as he sees the fish tanks, Archie darts straight over to them, pressing his palms against the glass.

“Look at these ones!” he says excitedly, jabbing his finger at a school of shiny neon tetras. “Look at the colors!”

“Don’t tap the glass,” I warn him. “They don’t like that.”

He withdraws his hands quickly, but the look of wonder doesn’t fade from his face.

A few weeks ago, Archie’s pre-K got a tank full of fish for the classroom, and Archie has been talking about it non-stop, asking for a fish of his own. I’ve known for a long time that he loves animals; it’s high time he got his first pet.

I ran the suggestion by Cole before coming here, and he agreed to it on the grounds that he wasn’t going to be the one to feed it. At the memory, I can’t help but chuckle and roll my eyes.

Cole can act like a grumpy hard-ass, just like he always has, but it doesn’t fool me anymore. I’ve seen the softer side of him now.

“I don’t know what fish to get,” Archie says, his eyes round. “There are so many different kinds!”

I look around for a store attendant, but there’s no one in sight. “Let’s look for a fish that will be easy to take care of,” I suggest. “This is your first pet, so we don’t want to get one that’s going to be picky, right?”

“Right!”

“What about a betta?” I steer Archie toward the betta shelves, where the colorful fish are floating in plastic cups. “What do you think? We could get one of these little guys into a nice, comfy tank.”

Archie peruses the stack of fish, then picks out a blue one with iridescent scales. We head into the aisles to gather the supplies Archie will need to take care of the little guy.

As we pick out a piece of driftwood to place in his fish’s tank, an older woman in the aisle stops to smile at Archie. “Hello, young man. Are you bringing home a new friend?”

Shyly, Archie nods, holding up his fish for her inspection.

“Have you thought of a name for him?”

Archie tilts his head to the side, thinking. Then, at last, he declares, “I’ll call him Swimmy!”

The older woman beams. “That’s an excellent name for a fish.”

“Say thank you,” I say quietly to Archie.

“Thank you,” Archie says to the older woman.

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