Page 44 of The Single Dad

They all seem a bit cowed at that, and embarrassed, looking at the ground. The blonde starts to stammer out a response, but eventually quails under my glare. She huffs and stomps away, with the rest of the group following in her wake.

Just in time, too, because Riley and Archie are returning from the snack cart. Archie is clutching his pretzel, which he holds up to me.

“Want some?”

“No thanks, buddy,” I say.

Riley’s smile diminishes as she meets my gaze, concern on her face—she must have noticed something in my expression. “Are you okay?”

“Of course,” I say, managing a smile. It actually comes pretty easily. The sight of the two of them running along the asphalt path, both beaming and giggling, brought it out.

Her eyebrows shoot up; for a moment, she looks taken aback. Then she gets her wits back about her and grins. “Wow. I didn’t know you knew how to smile.”

I pretend to scowl at that, but I find that it’s actually more difficult to force a frown than a smile. I can’t hide my expression, no matter how hard I try.

“Come on,” I say, laying a hand on Archie’s shoulder. “There are a lot of animals left that need to be petted. Let’s get going.”

The three of us make our way through the zoo, moving steadily away from the rest of Archie’s class. Archie prefers to take his time with his favorite animals, while the other kids are eager to move along and see whatever’s next.

None of the kids stick around while he lingers with a treasured Shetland pony, a stocky, fluffy brown thing with a velvety white nose. He also spends a long time with a funny-looking, one-eared sheep that has won his affections. I don’t want to rush him, and neither, it seems, does Riley.

Eventually, we find our way to the end of the petting zoo. Archie has formed a list of his new friends, and is rattling them off on his fingers as we approach the buses.

I pause, frowning at the buses, and glance at Riley. “What do you say we let them go on ahead of us, and we go get an early dinner around here?” I suggest. “I don’t feel like riding back on the bus.”

Partially, it’s because I don’t want to be crammed into close quarters with those women again, listening to their bullshit while they turn their noses up at Riley. But it’s also out of a desire to spend more time out with Riley and Archie.

For whatever reason, I can’t stop smiling. I’m in better spirits than I’ve been in for a long, long time, and I want to keep it going.

Riley’s face lights up at the suggestion, and she nods. “That sounds great.”

“What do you think, kiddo?” I glance down at Archie. “We’re going out to eat.”

“Yay!” He gives a little bounce, which I take as an agreement.

I approach one of the buses, giving the driver a wave. “You can go on without us,” I say. “We’re going to head home separately.”

The driver gives me a curious look, but nods. The two buses take off, peeling out of the parking lot in the direction of the city. I walk back to Riley and Archie, pulling out my phone as I do so to send for a car.

“Anyone got any suggestions for food?” I ask them.

“I’m pretty hungry,” Archie says solemnly. “It’s been a long time since I ate the pretzel.”

“It sure has,” Riley agrees, smiling fondly down at him. She looks back up at me. “What about something simple? Burgers and shakes?”

It’s been a long time since I had a meal as down-to-earth as a burger and a milkshake. There’s something charming about the idea, though, so I nod in agreement. “Burgers it is.”

We wait in the park across the street from the petting zoo while my driver brings a car up from Manhattan. It takes around half an hour, during which Archie tires himself out climbing on trees and Riley and I sit on a bench, talking.

Even though we live in the same house, I don’t usually get the chance to have a one-on-one conversation with Riley like this. Sure, we talk at night after Archie goes to bed, but that’s usually in the context of her job—she tells me about Archie’s day, and about anything I should be worried about.

Now, though, as we watch him run through the trees, our conversation is a little more personal. She tells me about growing up in foster care, and how her experience informed her path through education.

“So that was the goal of the social work?” I ask, after she tells me about her degree program.

She nods. “I wanted to help kids like me—and like Noah.” She gives a little sigh, then continues, “It’s a tough world out there. Things don’t always turn out right, and kids are especially vulnerable.”

There’s a note of regret in her voice that I can’t help but notice. I want to ask her what that’s about, but I’m having trouble finding a tactful way to voice it, so we sit in companionable silence while I give it a shot.

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