Chapter 6
Chapter Six
TATUM
I ’m a compartmentalizing champ, a skill I acquired to help deal with the fallout from my drama-inclined clan. With six siblings and a large extended family, someone in the O’Leary orbit is always going through it. If you’re not careful, it’s easy to let the weight of all the emotional commotion drag you down.
I learned early on how to listen to a loved one, empathize and advise, and then lock my worry for them away inside while I took care of business and enjoyed my life.
Once I’ve swallowed the initial wave of disappointment that Drew won’t be my sexy new boyfriend, I get through the day just fine. It helps that Sarah Beth is a complete doll, smart as a whip, and shares my love for pretend. She also loves that I put on skates and take her roller-skating class with her, while the other grown-ups sit in the café, and that I don’t mind crawling under the bushes in the park to look for fairies.
We have such a great time that it isn’t until I put her down for her nap at two that the tightness in my chest comes rushing back. Soon, I’m so bummed, I can’t enjoy my afternoon coffee or the cookie I brought as a first day of work pick-me-up. I think about reaching out to my fam—Lord knows they reach out to me in times of trouble—but no one back home would understand how upsetting this development truly is.
They don’t know Drew or how perfect he is.
And I don’t want to text Mom or Molly or Peach with complaints on my third day in my new town. They weren’t thrilled about me moving so far away in the first place. They’ll tell me this kerfuffle is a sign I should come home, and Mom will promise to set me up with Chris from church.
But I don’t want to go home and Chris from church picks his nose in public. A nose picker would have been bad enough pre-Drew. But after banging the hottest single dad in the country, possibly the world, the thought of sitting down to dinner across from Chris and his diggy fingers threatens to send me into a fit of full-fledged despair.
Grabbing my cell, I shoot a text to Wren— Any chance you’d be up for a happy hour drink tonight? I could use some girl talk. I’m having an unexpectedly rough first day at my new job.
In just a few seconds, Wren texts back— Yes, please! I’m having a Monday, too. I had two nurses call in sick and a patient who needed to be rushed to the hospital for an emergency C-section. I have no idea why she waited so long to come in. I swear, if I ever get pregnant, I’m moving into the hospital at the start of month eight and staying there until the baby’s safely out. So, what’s up with the job? Is the little girl having a hard time adjusting?
Already cheered by our chat, I say— No, she’s an angel and I think we’re going to be great friends. It’s the dad who’s the issue, but I’ll fill you in tonight. This is a story best told in person.
Okay, Wren texts. My break is almost over anyway, but don’t take any guff from this guy. If he’s a creep, quit. I can help you find a new job. I can think of four families off the top of my head who are desperate for full-time childcare, and life’s too short to work somewhere you don’t feel comfortable.
She’s right, and maybe I should consider quitting, but the possibility doesn’t sit well with me. I already adore Sarah Beth and my gut says she needs me, that I can bring a kind of joy to her life that she’s been missing. And what better work is there than to make a child feel safe, seen, and happy?
I reply, Thank you, but I can’t quit. Like I said, the little girl is a sweetheart, but she’s been through some hard times in her life already. I think she needs me, and the dad isn’t a creep. He’s actually amazing.
Wren sends a puzzled emoji. I’m confused but intrigued. Meet me at six at The Root and Barley? It’s a bar downtown, next to the library. They have two-dollar drafts and discounted chef salad until seven.
Telling her that sounds perfect, I wish her a great rest of her day—with no more emergency C-sections in it—and listen to my audiobook until it’s time to get Sarah Beth up at three-thirty.
When I tiptoe into her room, whispering, “Miss Sarah B, it’s time for tea. Wake up and come play with me,” she wakes up with a smile on her precious little face and mumbles, “You’re still here. I was afraid you were a dream,” and seals my fate.
In that moment, I silently vow to be here for her as long as she needs me.
I sit down on the edge of her small bed, saying, “Nope, I’m not a dream. And I’m going to be here every day except Saturdays and Sundays. So, you’d better get used to me, buddy.”
She grins wider, making her dimples pop. “Okay, buddy. Can we really have tea? Daddy says it’s too hot for little kids.”
“I’ll make sure it’s not too hot and we’ll have a tea party with Ajax and friends before we do afternoon crafts. I don’t know about you, but I need a little time and tea to wake up after a nap before I jump into making art.”
“Me, too,” she says, sitting up and wrapping her arms around my neck, sighing as she relaxes into me with a trust that makes my heart ache. “Carry me downstairs?”
“Of course,” I say, picking her up, cradling her warm body in my arms as I head for the stairs. “My pleasure.”
By the time we finish our tea and make a huge mess glitter gluing wooden shapes together to make a tribe of tiny elves, I’ve decided Sarah Beth is the most adorable child ever to walk the face of the earth. She’s just so sweet and creative and eager to soak in the magic of the world.
I hope she stays that way as she grows up, and I hope I’m there to see it, to nurture it.
Maybe Drew was right. Maybe it’s best not to put this at risk.
After all, my relationships with men always go to shit, sooner or later, but there’s no reason I can’t be a loving force in Sarah Beth’s life for the long haul. I know plenty of childcare providers and nannies who keep in touch with their kids for years, all the way until they’re grown-up and starting families of their own.
The attraction—and loss—I feel when I’m with Drew will fade, with time.
Or so I tell myself when he arrives home at five-thirty, sending Sarah Beth running for the door, shouting, “Daddy, we had such a good day. I had chicken nuggets for lunch, and we had a tea party and made elves and Tatum’s going to come back tomorrow! She’s going to come back every day except Saturday and Sunday!”
“That’s awesome, kiddo.” Drew casts a glance my way over her head. Just making eye contact with him is enough to make my tummy flip. “Thanks, Tatum. Sounds like you knocked your first day out of the park.”
I grab my duffel bag and backpack from beside the couch, where Sarah Beth and I were just starting The Princess and the Frog. “Easy to do with a great person like Sarah B. I can’t wait for gymnastics class tomorrow. Are you going to teach me to do a cartwheel? A backflip? Two backflips?”
Sarah Beth giggles as I come to meet her and her dad at the door. “No, silly. I can’t do a backflip, but we can do front rolls and back rolls and jump in the foam pit. Jumping in the foam is the best part. You get to do it three times if you’re good during the rest of class.”
“Good to know,” I say, with a wink. “I guess I’ll be good, then. Don’t want to miss out on that sweet foam action.”
Drew smiles, but he looks tired, signaling it’s time for the nanny to get lost. And yes, a part of me wishes that I could stay and help him cook dinner, ask him about his day, and share every hilarious thing his daughter cooked up in her brilliant four-year-old brain while he was gone, but…that’s not what this is. We’re not dating or here to give each other emotional support.
He’s my boss, I’m his employee, and if I want to keep my heart from aching every time, I see his handsome face and oh-so-kissable lips, I would do well to remember it.
Forcing a purely friendly smile, I say, “See you guys tomorrow. Have a great night,” and walk through the door, telling myself it will get easier to walk away from them.
Of course, it will.
It has to.