Page 48 of The Single Dad

By the time we return home, it’s getting late. The sky is dark as we make it to the front door, ushering a tired Archie inside.

“It might be a good idea for you to head to bed, mister,” I say to Archie, who yawns widely as I make the suggestion.

He nods, not even bothering to protest, which I take as a sign that he’s exhausted from his busy day. I glance over at Cole.

“Is it okay if I take him up?”

“Go for it,” Cole says, nodding.

I get Archie in bed, and he falls asleep only five minutes into tonight’s bedtime story, in which Ralphie the sheep has joined the lion and the dinosaur on their adventures. As soon as I’m certain he’s out, I stand and turn off the lights, slipping out into the hallway.

I head back downstairs. Cole is in the living room, relaxing—well, almost relaxing, I’ve never seen Cole genuinely relaxed—on the couch. The TV is on, the nightly news playing, but as I enter the room, he switches it off.

“Drink?” he asks, lifting his own glass of scotch.

“No, thanks.” I shake my head; I still don’t trust myself that much. I do sit down in the loveseat adjacent to him, though. Even though we’re close to each other—closer than usual—the few feet between us still feels like miles.

“I’m curious,” he begins, setting the glass down on a coaster on the coffee table. “And you don’t have to answer, if you don’t want to—”

“I’m an open book,” I say with a laugh, then add silently, Unlike you.

“Who was that guy at the restaurant?”

“Oh.” I exhale, shaking my head. “Well, it’s like I told you—he was an ex.”

“How long ago were you together?” he demands. I’m not sure if I’m imagining it, but… is that a note of jealousy in his voice?

“It’s been a year since we broke up. It was… well, it didn’t end great. He was kind of a jerk the entire time we were together, which wasn’t very long. He pretty much blew it.”

Cole nods sharply, a strange intensity in his gaze. “I see. Did you end it, or did he?”

“I did.”

“What did he do to you?”

“It was nothing that bad,” I assure him—he seems like he’s starting to get angry on my behalf, imagining the ways this guy could have hurt me. “He wasn’t abusive, or anything, just… selfish. Unreliable.”

“What do you mean?” Cole asks.

“I would make plans, and he would blow me off.” I shrug, though the memories still sting a little.

I’m over Adam—it was really easy to get over Adam, since I never really had strong feelings for him to begin with—but it still bites to know that he couldn’t be bothered to care.

“I would get him gifts,” I continue, “and he wouldn’t reciprocate. He forgot my birthday. He flaked on dates all the time, usually at the last minute. That kind of thing. It became a pattern.”

I fall silent, hesitating. Cole nods again, but doesn’t respond. I think he’s trying to encourage me to keep talking.

“It’s just… the little things,” I say, faltering. “You know. The things a person does to show they care. To show interest. The way Adam acted… it made it hard to believe him when he told me he loved me. I don’t think it was even true.”

It’s the first time I’ve ever admitted that out loud before. I didn’t even say it to Adam himself while I was breaking up with him. I think I was afraid to. Like I wanted desperately to believe, despite everything, that someone had loved me.

“Hm.” Cole shifts, taking a long sip of the whiskey. His gaze fixes on the dark television, his brow furrowed like he’s thinking deeply.

“Do you know what I mean, though?”

“Yes,” he says. “I think I do.” He turns to me, heat in his eyes. “And you deserve a lot better than that asshole.”

The residual pang of hurt fades as our gazes meet. I feel something stirring in my chest, something I’ve felt several times since I started to work for Cole.

---