Page 15 of Single Dad Dilemma
“Where on the internet?”
Maggie straightened her shoulders. “Her social media. She’s not very active. She hardly posts anything. Butno onecan hide online, Dad.”
I dropped my chin to my chest and tried to keep breathing. “All right. Keep going.”
“Lily Townsend is twenty-eight years old, never been married, no kids, and comeshighlyrecommended,” she said.
My head snapped up. “From who?”
“Scott and Patty,” Bryce answered. “We have text messages of them giving her a glowing recommendation.” He elbowed his sister.
The next slide was screenshots of their texts with our neighbors, and I read the exchange with a growing sense of despair.
They loved her. Said she’d be phenomenal at taking care of them. She was smart and polite. Even though she kept to herself, they absolutely fell in love with her when they met her in Phoenix on their winter visit last year. She was house-sitting for someone there, and the rest, it seemed, was history.
“Lily loves to bake, and you know I’ve been wanting to learn.” My daughter clasped her hands together over her chest. “It would beeducational, Dad.”
I closed my eyes. “That’s a stretch, and not nearly enough to convince me it’s safe to let her watch you. We don’t know her.”
“You didn’t know Jill when you hired her, either, and she was horrible.”
My eyes opened, landing unerringly on my son. “She came highly recommended from her agency, and they have a thorough vetting process.”
The kids looked at each other meaningfully, which honestly, never boded well.
The next slide had me leaning forward. “Maggie,” I said in a warning tone. “Where did you get that?”
“Well, it’s nothardto run a background check on someone,” she hedged. “She doesn’t have a criminal record. Not even a parking ticket, Dad.”
I pinched my eyes shut. “Kids, I appreciate how much work you put into this—”
“Dad, please,” Bryce begged. “We really like her. She didn’t treat us like little kids or try to play stupid games. And she’s next door until Mr. Scott and Mrs. Patty get home in February. It’s not a forever thing, you can find someone else; but until we’re on Christmas break and Grandma and Grandpa can come, this could work. Then you’re in the offseason and you’re always home when we get off the bus. This is a good compromise, and—and you know what, um, John F. Kennedy said about compromise, right?”
“I can’t say that I do.”
“Compromise does not mean cowardice,” he told me. “I learned it when I did that project last month.”
Slowly, I sat back again, watching incredulously as Maggie’s eyes filled with tears that she tried to blink away and Bryce’s cheeks pinked with his vigorous defense of their idea.
“We can stay over there until you’re home,” Maggie said in a trembling voice. “She was nice, and she didn’t make us feel like badkids. Half the people we’ve hired always remind us how much trouble we’re always getting in.”
Her eyes. God, the way she was looking at me cut me straight through to my ribs.
“Please, Dad,” Bryce whispered, clearly trying his hardest not to get emotional. “It’s just for a couple weeks. When you’re done with the season, we won’t need her help—but you’re gone so much. We just want to like the person who’s taking care of us.”
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d cried. When I even came close. When they were born, maybe?
But the sight of them begging me for this had a lump building dangerously in my throat.
“Will you just ... just talk to her?” Maggie asked. “Please?”
There was no other answer for these two, who held my heart in their hands and didn’t even realize it. “Yeah, I’ll talk to her,” I managed in an uneven voice.
They were on me in the next heartbeat, laughing and whooping, and I wrapped my arms tight around them, pressing my face into the tops of their heads.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Maggie gushed.
Bryce squeezed me tight, the kind of hug I hadn’t gotten from him in so long. “Thank you, Dad.”
