Page 56 of The Single Dad

And it is professional between us. But still, Cole isn’t as closed off as he was initially.

When he comes home from work, he talks to me. About Archie, but also about other things. About my education. About his firm. About my interest in painting, and the cyclically-changing suite of paintings that grace my easel.

I find myself looking forward to our conversations, which have an easy, relaxing flow to them, despite the ever-present tension. Most nights, once Archie has gone to bed, we will sit together in the kitchen or the den. He sips whiskey, and while I don’t trust myself enough to drink in front of him, I feel comfortable enough to draw, scratching out doodles on pieces of scrap paper.

Cole is a serious, stoic man who rarely smiles, but he’s still quite capable of making me laugh. He has a dry, deadpan sense of humor that I find charming.

Every once in a while, I even manage to make him laugh, which always fills me with a sense of accomplishment. Getting Cole to laugh is every bit as satisfying as acing an exam in school, and twice as challenging.

After we head upstairs each night, he disappears into his room and I into mine. More often than not, I find myself frustrated, wanting.

I try to sate the desire by touching myself to thoughts of him. I let my fingers run through my own folds, gentle and then faster, as I desperately chase the temporary wave of release that might take the edge off. I fall asleep that way, and wake up more frustrated than ever.

Once, I even attempt to get myself off with the detachable shower head, trying to imagine that the vibration and pressure is coming from his strong fingers.

The weekend comes around again. I only get every other weekend off, so technically, if Cole needs me to watch Archie, I’m on the clock. In the past, he’s usually given me most of the time for myself, save for a couple hours here and there where I watch Archie while he gets extra work done.

I go downstairs on Saturday morning at my usual time. I didn’t make plans for today, just in case Cole needs me for something. Sure enough, as I enter the kitchen, he looks up expectantly.

“Good morning,” he says.

I nod. “Same to you.”

Archie is already sitting at the counter, and I feel a little flash of embarrassment that the boy is awake earlier than me. He’s also visibly bursting with excitement, a wide grin dimpling his cheeks.

“I got invited to a party!” he says proudly, puffing out his chest.

“Oh, yeah?” I glance at Cole for confirmation.

Cole nods, almost smiling. “A birthday party for one of his classmates,” he says. “This afternoon.”

“Oh. Well, since I’m on the clock today, I’ll definitely take him,” I offer. “Where is it?”

“It’s at an amusement park,” Cole tells me, leaning against the counter and sipping his cup of coffee. Black and unsweetened, just the way he always takes it. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all.”

He pauses for a moment, swirling the remains of the coffee in his mug. Then he adds, “I was planning on going myself. We can go together.”

That surprises me, though I try not to let it show on my face. Secretly, though, I’m pleased. An outing just like the petting zoo last weekend, where the three of us get the chance to enjoy our day together… with any luck, it will be just as pleasant.

* * *

Rather than call his driver, Cole takes us to Coney Island in his own car. It’s almost funny to see the sleek luxury model parked alongside all of the regular sedans and minivans in the parking lot.

The party group is assembled by the entrance to the park. Archie skips happily, swinging from my arm as we approach; I let go of his hand, and he runs forward to greet his friend, the birthday boy, a small child with cropped black curls.

Around the children are their parents. I recognize some of them from the concert at Archie’s pre-K, and from the petting zoo, though a few are new faces. None of them look particularly pleased to see us. Some of the moms have pinched expressions, like they just stepped in something foul.

Most of the displeased, judgmental expressions are directed my way, and I know exactly what they’re thinking: that I’m overstepping my place. That I’m acting like more than just a nanny.

I stare at the ground, avoiding their stares. I want to pretend that it doesn’t bother me, but there’s a flicker of uncertainty in my chest.

A park official comes to escort the party group through the front gates, and once we’re in, the nerves that seized me settle a little bit. The kids go running off in all directions, leaving the parents with more pressing things to fuss over than my standing with Cole.

The party chaperones manage to get the children together again, telling them firmly that we are going to move through the park together as a group to make sure no one gets lost. It’s up to the birthday boy where we’re going first.

The child deliberates for a long moment before declaring that he wants to play carnival games, and the whole group moves in a herd toward the striped, multicolored tents.

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