Page 147 of The Single Dad

“If that’s how you feel,” I say slowly, “then you’re right. It’s best that we end this now. And I know you love Archie. He’s the best kid I know. But honestly, I feel sorry for you if your heart is so small that you only have room for one person in it.”

I try to read Cole’s face, searching for any trace of hurt or disappointment, any sign of the same emotions that are tearing a hole in my chest, but his expression is indecipherable.

“I can’t… I can’t work for you anymore,” I add, shaking my head. “It would be too hard, and too awkward.”

Cole’s jaw clenches, a hint of emotion breaking through his veneer of indifference. For a moment, I expect him to argue, but he merely inclines his head. “I know. You can consider your resignation accepted immediately.”

My chest aches, and I press my palm to my sternum despite knowing that it’s useless; my broken heart isn’t a physical pain. I swallow, trying to keep myself together. I want to be strong in front of him.

If he gets to be this composed, then so do I. He hasn’t earned the right to see me break down.

“Can I say goodbye to Archie?” I ask.

A shadow passes over his face, a flash of unmistakable anguish. Then he marshals his expression back into order, nodding. “Yes. Of course.”

I turn away from Cole, heading for the stairs. If I get the chance to say goodbye to my favorite child, I want to do it away from Cole, where I’m less likely to lose my cool.

I enter Archie’s bedroom. He’s still asleep as I open the door a crack, but he wakes up as soon as I step into his room, blinking sleep from his eyes.

“Riley?”

“Hey, bud,” I say, kneeling down next to his bed. “How’d you sleep?”

“Good,” he mumbles.

“How’s the arm?”

In answer, he pulls his arm, in its bulky cast, out from under the blanket and sets it on top of the sheets. He frowns down at it. “I forgot about it until now.”

“Sorry for the reminder,” I say with a quiet chuckle. “Does it feel okay?”

“It hurts a little,” he says. The pain must be much less than yesterday, because he doesn’t cry.

“Well, I’m glad it’s starting to feel better. And it’s a really cool cast. You’re going to have a great story to tell your friends.”

I hesitate. This is hard. How do you tell a child that he won’t see you anymore?

Eventually, I take a deep breath, steeling myself.

“Listen, Archie—”

He can hear the seriousness in my tone. He sits up straighter, the sleepiness gone from his eyes.

“I’m really sorry, but I have to leave,” I tell him. The hollow feeling in my chest is worse than ever as I continue, “I won’t be able to be your nanny anymore.”

For a few seconds, he stares at me, not reacting. Then the words start to sink in, and tears gather at the edges of his eyes. “What do you mean, you have to leave?” He shakes his head, trying to deny it. “Where are you going?”

“I have to move on to somewhere else,” I say, being deliberately vague. It’s a last little piece of professionalism: I don’t want to drag Archie into this fight between me and Cole, though that’s mostly for Archie’s sake rather than Cole’s.

“But… but I’m going to miss you,” Archie says, starting to sniffle.

“I’m going to miss you, too,” I say, placing a hand on his good arm and giving it a squeeze. “But I had a lot of fun on all of our adventures together. Didn’t you?”

Archie wipes at his tears even as he nods.

“I need you to do me a huge favor after I leave, okay?”

Archie mumbles out an unintelligible reply that might be an “okay.”

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