Page 18 of The Single Dad

“Oh,” I say, taken aback. “Um, okay. What exactly would you be needing?”

Cole sighs, and for a moment, a sliver of weariness breaks through the cold exterior of his face. “I mostly just need some help,” he admits. “I thought I could juggle everything, but I’ve been having trouble on my own. I think that Archer—I call him Archie for short—needs more attention than I can give him.”

I nod sympathetically. While in school, working on internships, I came across plenty of people with the same problem. It’s hard to be a single parent.

“I’m looking for someone who can be there for Archie when I can’t,” Cole says. “Someone who understands kids, and isn’t going to be harsh with him.”

I frown, thinking. In the lull in conversation, the buzzer rings again, and I jump up to get it, almost grateful for the interruption.

“Hello? I have an order from Stacey’s Subs, for Riley?”

“That’s me,” I say. “You can come up, just knock.”

Cole waits in impassive silence as I thank the delivery driver and take my food, my mouth watering at the warm smells from the bag. I take it back to the coffee table and start to unpack the styrofoam boxes, then look up at my unexpected guest.

“Do you want some?” I offer, gesturing at the bag. “I ordered way too much food.”

Cole shakes his head. “No, thank you.” He walks forward to take the chair beside the coffee table.

“If you say so.” I shrug and dig in. He sits next to me, watching me eat like some kind of alien, his expression flat and almost confused. With his otherworldly good looks, the effect is uncanny. If he opened his mouth and told me he was from the planet Venus, I wouldn’t bat an eye.

I swallow my first mouthful of my sandwich, looking back at him. “So,” I say, “what would the job duties be?”

“Help me with Archie’s meals, baths, that sort of thing. Help me get him ready for preschool, when it’s in session. Play with him, keep him occupied while I’m working.” He pauses, then adds, “I should mention that this is a live-in position. You would be given lodging in my house, which, I assure you, has plenty of room.”

I stare at the paper bag on the table. “I’ve never considered nannying before,” I say carefully. I don’t want to turn down the opportunity, but I’m still unsure about it. “I don’t know if it’s for me. And I don’t have any experience.”

“We haven’t discussed salary yet.” Cole reaches into his pocket and pulls out a folded slip of paper, which he hands to me. “Perhaps this might help you make up your mind?”

I open the paper and nearly jump out of my skin. It’s all I can do not to yell aloud; I was not expecting a number this big.

I almost choke on my sandwich, barely managing to swallow my bite. “Are you joking?”

“No,” says Cole, in a tone as severe as his expression. I don’t get the sense that he jokes frequently.

I pause, staring at him, stunned. After a few moments, I say, “Well… in that case, I guess I need some time to think about it. Is that okay?”

“Of course,” says Cole. He gets to his feet, reaching into his jacket pocket to produce a business card. I take it. It’s embossed, eggshell-white, with raised lettering—neat and organized, just like his appearance. “Take your time, and give me a call when you’ve made a decision.”

I swallow, nodding, as he turns to leave.

Chapter 6

Riley

“Ooh—what about this?”

Olivia turns to face me, holding up a silky, low-cut black top. I sigh wistfully, crossing the boutique floor to take the fabric into my hands, feeling its softness.

“That would look so good on you,” I tell her truthfully.

“Right? But check this out—” She runs her fingers along the hem of the shirt until she finds the price tag, holding it out to show me.

I make a false gagging noise in response. That’s part of the ritual, after all.

Sometimes, when we’ve set aside time to hang out, Olivia and I will move from lunch to a pastime that we, for want of a better term, call “shopping.” That is, we go from store to store on Fifth Avenue, looking at designer clothes that neither of us will ever be able to afford.

It’s fun, but only because it means the two of us are spending time together. In several other ways, it’s horribly depressing.

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