Page 17 of Faking It With the Grumpy Single Dad

“Were you close with him?” he asks. His voice is soft, almost like he’s not certain if he wants to keep pressing the topic.

“Yeah,” I murmur. “He was my best friend. My hero. Schism’s popularity meant he was never in one place very long, so he hired a private tutor and took me on the road with him and the band. My mom wasn’t—I mean, she’s a whole different story. But my dad… most twenty-six-year-old guys wouldn’t bring their daughters on tour with them. They’d leave them with an au pair or ship them off to boarding school, you know? And my grandmother—the British one who still lives in London—tried to convince him to let her raise me. But he was adamant that he be as involved as possible in my life. So, from the time I was really little until I was thirteen, I spent the majority of my time on tour buses, in green rooms at all kinds of venues, and in lots of fancy hotel rooms.”

“Wow.” Joe sets aside the final door and shoves the screwdriver back in his belt. “I didn’t know that. I mean, I think I vaguely knew that he had a kid, but he seemed like such a typical rockstar that I couldn’t even imagine that you were actually there with him the whole time.”

A laugh bubbles out of me. “I know, right? I mean, don’t get me wrong. My dad and the guys partied like normal rockstars. There were a lot of nights where Deb—the band’s manager—would put me to bed, and then I’d wake up the next morning at, like, four thirty to my dad coming back home from whatever party or event he’d been at. But then he’d scoop me up, read me a bedtime story, and I’d fall asleep again for another hour or two. He wasn’t a normal dad, but he was a good one.”

Joe smiles painfully. “I’m really sorry, Poppy. The crash… it—”

My phone buzzes with an incoming call. Automatically, I reach into my pocket and pull it out, thinking it might be Aiden or Misha Roklov or someone important. I’m aware of Joe stopping mid-sentence as I glance down at the screen, but I lose track of our conversation as soon as I see who it is.

It’s the cockroach again.

I let out a frustrated growl and rise to my feet. This pathetic idiot is really not going to leave me alone.

“I’m really sorry,” I say to Joe. “But I should probably answer this.”

“It’s alright,” he calls to my rapidly retreating form.

“Leave something for me to smash apart, okay?” I shout over my shoulder as I hurry toward the back doors. I’m definitely going to need to take this call outside, because I don’t think I’m going to sound very sweet and charming while dealing with Percy Barclay.

“You got it, Poppy,” I think I hear Joe respond.

Chapter Six: Joe

“Whoa! What happened?” exclaims Eli, face glued to the window as he peers out from the backseat of the truck.

“What? I can’t see anything!” shouts Cody, wriggling behind my driver’s seat to get a glimpse of whatever has drawn Eli’s attention as we round the corner of a wooded driveway.

That’s when I see it, too.

“Uh-oh,” I mutter.

The large dirt driveway of the boys’ sitter’s house is crowded with three different vans. One is from the town’s water supply company, another from a local plumber, and the third is nondescript.

At the sight of my truck pulling in, Sasha comes hurrying down the porch steps and jogs over to me. She is a stern yet kindhearted woman, and there’s very few people I’d trust more than her to watch my kids. Normally, I don’t bring the boys here on Saturdays, and they’re getting a bit old for a sitter anyway. But some essential materials are being delivered to 1315 Atlantic Lane today, and I need to be there to deal with it.

I put the truck in park and roll down the window.

“Morning, Joe,” Sasha greets me, brushing her silver-streaked hair out of her face. She sounds slightly breathless, as if she’s been running around for hours even though it’s not even eight in the morning yet.

“Hey, Sasha. What’s going on here?”

She lets out a forlorn sigh. “One of my pipes burst. Flooded half the basement. I was hoping it might be a quick fix and we could just have the kids play outside this morning, but it looks like we have to cancel for the day.”

“Cancel?” I repeat. My brow furrows in confusion. Usually, pipes only burst when they freeze in the dead of winter. It’s not something we typically have to worry about in May.

“I know,” Sasha groans. She leans in slightly to peer past me at the boys. “Hey, kids. We’ve got a big mess in there today.”

“Is the whole house underwater?” Eli asks.

“Nah. Just a foot or two in the basement. It’s not safe, though, unfortunately.” She turns her attention back to me. “They’re going to have to shut my water off until they fix the pipes. Bob says he can probably get it done by the end of the day, but I really can’t watch them today, Joe. I’m sorry.”

I let out a long exhale. “It’s no problem. I’d offer my expertise, but it looks like you’ve got it taken care of. Plus, I only know the bare minimum when it comes to plumbing.”

Sasha laughs. “It’s good to see you, Joe. Sorry for the inconvenience. I tried to call earlier to catch you before you left, but then the water company showed up and… ugh. It’s been a long morning.”

“I’ll get out of your hair, then. See you later, Sasha. Good luck.”

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