Page 160 of The Single Dad

The server cracks a smile. “You guys got it.”

As she leaves, I turn back to Olivia, raising an eyebrow. “So. Let’s hear the rant.”

“You sure?” she asks. “Because it’s a real doozy.”

“Yeah. C’mon, as if you can keep it to yourself now, after all that buildup!”

She laughs, then sighs. “Okay. Well, the gist of it is that I’m, like, this close to quitting my job.” She holds up a hand, her thumb and forefinger a centimeter apart.

I click my tongue. “What did your boss do now?”

“I overheard him in a phone call with one of his clients,” she says bitterly. “Apparently, the man can’t seem to decide whether or not I’m an ‘incompetent bitch.’” She frames the words in air quotes. “That’s what he said on the phone, but when I tried to quit, he wouldn’t let me.”

I stare at her, my mouth open. “He said that? What do you mean, he won’t let you?”

“He threatened me,” Olivia says miserably. “He said he would blacklist me if I leave. I want to, so bad, but if he pulls that shit… well, what the hell else would I do for money?” She shakes her head. “I was already convinced he’d give me a terrible recommendation. Now I know it’s even worse than that.”

“I’m so sorry, Olivia,” I say sympathetically. “What are you going to do?”

She shrugs, a look of exhaustion on her face. “What can I do? I’m going to keep going to work. I hate it there, and I hate him, but… my parents are finally getting stable. The money I’m sending them is really helping. I couldn’t do that to them.”

“You’ll find something else,” I assure her. I hate to see my friend, who is usually so fun-loving, this downcast. “There’s gotta be something out there for you—away from that asshole.”

“Maybe,” she says, though she doesn’t look convinced. She shakes herself, as if pushing the thoughts from her head. “Enough about my worries, though. What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing,” I say evasively.

“Uh, that’s not true. You just ordered a tequila, neat. That’s not a Riley order, even if it is Friday. What’s up?”

Before I can respond, the server returns, our drinks balanced on her tray. She sets them down in front of us, and we each pull out our wallets to pay her. This dive is cash-only—it hasn’t updated a single thing since the eighties.

As soon as the server leaves, Olivia’s eyes are glued to me. “Well? Is it job stuff? I thought you were loving the new job.”

I’ve told Olivia about the community center position, but not about the circumstances that led me to it. I haven’t had the heart to admit that it was Cole who made it all possible. It’s bad enough that I see him from time to time at the center.

“I do love the job,” I say. “It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I get to spend every single day helping those kids. It’s exactly what I always wanted. It’s my true purpose, you know?”

Olivia pulls the stuffed olives off of their neon-pink, sword-shaped skewer, letting them fall back into her martini. She jabs at the table with the plastic sword absent-mindedly, as if she’s doing battle with the wood.

“You’re scratching the table,” I point out.

“Oh, true.” She glances down, then, more deliberately, scratches a smiley face into the surface with the sword’s tip.

I grin; that’s more like the Olivia I know and love. Now that we’ve moved on from her work troubles, she seems to be cheering up a bit.

“So… it’s not the job, then,” Olivia says. “Whatever’s bothering you, I mean.”

Nothing’s going to get by her—she knows me too well. “No,” I admit. “It’s not the job.”

“Then—”

“It’s Cole.”

She looks up from her smiley face drawing, her eyes wide. “Cole? I thought that was old news. Ancient history.”

Heavily, I explain the full situation to Olivia, who sits up straighter as I talk. I detail Cole’s purchase of the community center, and how he spoke to me the day I found out, asking to make our relationship official—to try this, for real.

“Ho-ly shit,” Olivia breathes when I’m done. “Are you kidding me?”

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