Page 12 of Single Dad Billionaire Boss

“The word iscongratulations, Zoe,” Jacob said. “And wow. That must be fun for her, but I’m glad you didn’t lose a tooth today. I wouldn’t want to miss that. When you get home I’ve got a job for you, okay?”

“What, Daddy?”

“Get that scary bird out of my room!” Jacob cried, which sent his daughter into peals of laughter.

“Tell your dad we’re eating nothing but vegetables for supper,” I called back from the driver’s seat. “And tell him you’ll be asleep by seven-thirty.”

“Tell your nanny I know she’s lying,” he said. “On both counts.”

I snorted. “Okay, okay. I promise she’ll have at least one vegetable.”

“A pickle is not a vegetable,” Jacob said, and I feigned a heavy sigh.

“Oh, Zoe,” I said, making a right turn, “please tell your father I’m driving so I’ll have to explain cucumbers to him later.”

Zoe and her father talked until we got to the aquarium—where, once inside, Zoe held my hand as we watched unearthly jellies pulse upward in a lighted tank the size of my apartment. We saw so many strange and amazing creatures, and at least a dozen times I kneeled beside her to read aloud their information plaques. Zoe loved the starfish and insisted I take a picture of her with them for her dad. She freaked out and cried for her daddy inside a tunnel because the sharks in there scared her, so I hurried out with her in my arms and her face pressed to my shoulder. We spent a while sitting on a bench until she felt better, then we hit the gift shop.

Out on the pier, Zoe was fascinated and pointed at everything. “Look, Ellie!” she must have said a dozen times. Hand in hand we wove through throngs of tourists to the musical stairs. Ecstatic, Zoe hopped up and down the same three steps as I videoed her. When I fired it off to Jacob, the reply read, “What is that thing in her hand?” A smile of wicked glee bloomed on my face as I answered, “IDK what ur talking about.” I couldn’t resist. Zoe was holding a two-foot churro and sporting a sticky smile.

Later that night, after scrubbing all the sugar off her face and hands, I read Zoe a couple of stories and then tucked her into bed. By the time I showered and climbed into bed myself, I felt exhausted but happy. Gus hopped up beside me and sniffed my neck.

“You smell the churros on me, don’t you?” I said, scratching between his ears. “Sorry, bud. I didn’t bring you any. It’s not good for you.”

Gus licked my ear. I giggled, nudging him away, and then texted Jacob a few more pictures of Zoe at the aquarium before turning off the light and falling asleep.

Tuesday morning before school, Zoe gave Gus a belly rub on the kitchen floor while he paddled his paws in the air.

“I can’t believe that cat loves you,” I said as I slipped Jacob’s note into her lunchbox. “He hates everyone. Seriously. He barely tolerated Kristen when she was my roommate, and that was only because she gave him tuna salad.”

“I don’t believe that,” Zoe said. “Gus is too cute to be mean.”

“You should’ve seen what he used to do to Kristen’s bras,” I said, and Gus turned over and started circling Zoe, throwing himself against her and butting her gently with his head. “You hear how he’s purring? You’re a regular cat whisperer, Zuzu.”

Zoe beamed at me. “He knows I love him,” she said. “Can I please bring him to school?”

“No way,” I said. “I realize the hamster thing was funny, but Gus would do more than poop under the sharpener. He’d claw out someone’s eyes.”

“Mendocino’s mom is a lawyer,” Zoe said, her eyes hopeful, and I shook my head.

“See, that would be just my luck. Gus would scratch the lawyer’s kid and next thing I know, I’m being sued. Gus can stay here. I’m not pushing my luck.”

Later that day, we did have a mishap, but thankfully there was no need to call Mendocino’s lawyer mother. Zoe got a splinter at the park. We had to go home to take care of it, and Zoe had such a storm of tears that not even a popsicle could calm her. Jacob called after the worst of it, but Zoe was still red-faced and sniffling as he grilled me on how I’d handled it. Did I sterilize the tweezers? Yes. Did I use the antibiotic cream? Yes. Did I give her a popsicle afterward? Yes, yes, yes.

The other days were smoother. Wednesday, I surprised Zoe with a visit to the Conservatory of Flowers and let her run around in her fairy wings with a light-up magic wand. She skipped around and pretended to turn the flowers into frogs and birds and butterflies and had a great time until some bees scared her.

“Don’t be afraid,” I said. “Bees are good for the flowers. They help make more baby plants when they get pollen on their tummies.”

Still, Zoe seemed rattled, so we went into the Victorian potted plants area, where she ended up showing Kristen her fairy routine on FaceTime. Kristen clapped and cheered and told Zoe how much she missed her. Then I took Zoe to get some pizza before we went home to do her bath and bedtime.

I liked the rhythm of the routine and Zoe’s endless enthusiasm even when her questions made me want to hide under the table. However, when Thursday morning rolled around and Jacob didn’t call at 7:15 as usual, I told her he was probably in a meeting. I felt a little uneasy about it—it was past 10 p.m. in Singapore—but I didn’t let on.

Later that morning, I was in the middle of a private counseling session when my phone lit up with Jacob’s number. I excused myself to take the call. Jacob would never ring me while Zoe was in school unless it was important—or an emergency.

“Hello?” I said, aware of the anxiousness in my voice.

“Good morning, Ella,” Jacob said, and I could tell right away that my fears were unfounded. Jacob sounded happy. “Change of plans. I’ll be home in time today to pick Zoe up from school myself. I want to surprise her.”

“You’re back early,” I said, trying to hide my disappointment. I had made plans for that afternoon to bake cookies with Zoe and introduce her toThe Rescuers.

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