Page 34 of The Single Dad

I turn around, intending to go over to Mr. Sullivan—to thank him for coming, or something—but he just gives Archie a quick wave and a smile, slipping out as quietly and quickly as he came in.

Huh. He must be really busy after all.

Archie runs up to me, and I lean down to give him a high five. “That was great, bud!” I tell him.

He’s bouncing up and down, exuberant. “Really? Could you hear me?”

“I sure could!”

I can feel eyes on me, and glance to the side. The three women whose gossip I overheard during the concert are looking at me, and not making any efforts to hide it.

At that, I feel a little uneasy. What if they’re judging me? They must know I’m the nanny, right? I didn’t stand near Mr. Sullivan during the concert or anything like that. Do they think I’m overstepping my role?

I shake my head, dismissing the thoughts. There’s no way for me to read their minds, so there’s no point in trying. I ignore them, listening to Archie chatter excitedly about the nuances of his performance.

Chapter 11

Riley

That night, as I’m setting the table for dinner, Mr. Sullivan arrives home early.

I’m almost startled as he comes through the door—usually he works late, coming home just in time to say goodnight to Archie, or even later, when the boy is already fast asleep. He always stops in to see his nephew in the evenings, even if Archie is passed out, but he’s typically too busy to spend much time with us.

But today, he’s home at five. He comes into the kitchen, and Archie runs up to him for a tackle hug.

“You saw my concert!” he exclaims shrilly—it’s all he’s been talking about since I picked him up from daycare. “Did you like it?”

“I loved it,” Mr. Sullivan says, ruffling his hair. He looks up at me. “Is there enough food for one more? I could always order us some delivery, if need be.”

“There should be plenty,” I say, surprised—pleasantly so. “We were just about to eat. Do you want to join us?”

Tonight’s dinner is fresh, pan-seared salmon and broccoli. Archie is a somewhat picky eater, like all kids, but for some reason, he seems fine with the usual suspects, like fish and greens. And since the budget is high in the Sullivan household, I try to get him whatever healthy foods I can convince him to eat.

As we sit down to eat, Archie tells us about his burgeoning musical career. “We had to ‘member all the songs,” he says, a serious look on his young face. “It was hard.”

“How did you remember them?” asks Mr. Sullivan.

“You just have to do them over and over again. That way you get the words.” Archie nods matter-of-factly. “I sang them during my bathtime.”

“It’s true,” I say. “He did. He was very diligent.”

Archie looks at me in confusion, not recognizing the word, then eventually seems to decide that it must be a compliment. He smiles in satisfaction, spearing a piece of broccoli with his little fork.

When he’s finished with the food, he runs off to the living room, singing one of the concert songs as he goes. I stand up to collect the dishes, and to my surprise, Mr. Sullivan helps me. He reaches for Archie’s plate before I can grab it.

In the kitchen, I run the sink, rinsing the plates while Mr. Sullivan stacks them in the dishwasher. There’s something oddly rhythmic about the way we work together to clean the dishes.

“It was cool of you to come to Archie’s concert,” I say, breaking the amicable silence between us. “You must’ve been busy.”

He looks up at me from where he’s stooped over the open dishwasher, almost smiling. “I know you think I’m a workaholic, but if there’s one thing that can drag me away from work, it’s my nephew.”

“I overheard some of the other moms at the preschool,” I say, teasing. “They all seem to want you.”

“What do you mean?”

“They have crushes on you.” I laugh, trying to sound lighthearted, joking.

Mr. Sullivan rolls his eyes, straightening. He holds his hand out for another plate. “Oh. I figured, to be honest. That bunch has a tendency to stare.”

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