Page 19 of The Single Dad

“What have you found?” Olivia asks me.

I reach into the basket I’m carrying—completely pointless, of course, but there’s always the chance we might decide to stay and try some of these outfits on. “What do you think of this?”

It’s a little cashmere cardigan, light brown, hand-stitched—perfect for fall days in the city. Olivia sighs longingly when she sees it.

“Oh, that’s so nice.”

“It’s soft, too,” I say, holding it out to her. “Touch it.”

She touches it. Her eyes go wide. “Ugh, I need to have disposable income, stat.”

We both laugh at that. That’s one of the great things about these little excursions we make: we manage to turn our low incomes into the foundation of a joke, somehow enjoying our empty pockets as we peruse the shelves.

After all, the point of this trip isn’t to shop. It’s to look at things and wish we could have them.

“You wanna try these on?” Olivia holds the black top up to her torso, raising both eyebrows.

“Let’s do it.”

Olivia and I make our way to the back of the store, where a smiling attendant shows us into fitting rooms.

As we’re changing, Olivia says, “So, you never told me last time—whatever happened with that job interview? The one you were all excited about?”

I frown, halfway out of my shirt. “Oh. Yeah. I forgot about that.”

“Have you heard back yet?”

“Yes,” I grumble. “And it wasn’t exactly good news.”

“They didn’t choose you?”

“Nope.” I sigh, pulling the cardigan over my shoulders. It fits like a glove, of course. I turn around to admire it in the mirror, doing my best to swallow the bitter disappointment that rises in my throat at the reminder of the rejection.

I can hear the scowl in Olivia’s voice when she speaks. “That’s stupid, Riley. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. I actually think I might have something else lined up.”

Olivia’s face appears at the top of the divider between our two dressing rooms; she must be standing on the bench. “Oh? Tell me!”

I start to explain my run-in with Cole, and how he showed up at my apartment to offer me the nanny job.

“That’s some luck, huh?” Olivia jumps down from the bench. I hear the swish of her fitting room curtain and step out myself. She looks great in the top, which, it turns out, is cut along one sleeve, so that her arm is visible in triangular sections. The asymmetry works for her.

“You’re telling me,” I say. “I’ve been on the fence about it, though. I’ve never really thought about nannying.”

“Well, what’s he paying?”

I tell her. She gapes, disbelief in her expression.

“You’re joking.”

I shake my head. “Apparently not.”

“You have to take it!” Olivia exclaims, waving her hands. “Are you out of your mind?”

I pick at the sleeve of the cardigan; cute as it is, it’s a little itchy once it’s on, and too warm for the current temperature. “I don’t know.”

“Riley, come on,” Olivia says, exasperated. “Look at us! What are we doing right now?”

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