3. Riley
“It was just bad luck,”Noah says, following me up the basement steps. “Nothing but cheap, dirty tricks and bad luck.”
I smile smugly, glancing at him over my shoulder. “Spoken like a sore loser.”
“Just you wait—next time, it’s gonna be all me.”
I take my coat off the coat rack, and Noah follows me to the door to see me out. I turn to hug him as I leave, and say, “If you want that to be true, you’d better get some practice in, because let me tell you—you’re never gonna beat me playing like that.”
Noah releases me, scoffing, and I stick my tongue out at him as I head down the front steps.
“See you later!”
He waves. “I’ll shoot you a text next time I have some free time.”
“You better,” I reply.
Noah returns to his house, closing the door behind himself, and I make my way through his charming front garden to the sidewalk.
I start to head back to the nearest subway station, but before I can get far, I pause. There’s a little boy crying on the sidewalk ahead of me.
The guy standing next to this little boy is, well, gorgeous. He’s tall, over six feet, with harsh, sharp features. His hair is jet black and carefully styled, and he’s well-built, all of his clothes tailored to perfection. There’s something imposing about him, even as he tries to comfort the crying child.
The kid couldn’t be more than five years old. He has a mop of adorable brown curls and cute round cheeks, which are red from the stinging tears as he howls.
I can’t tell what upset him, but boy, is he upset.
And the stunningly attractive guy standing next to him is having a hard time calming him down. As I approach, he murmurs something to the boy that seems to have no effect at all on the child’s tantrum.
I’m about to pass by them when the man looks up at me, and our gazes meet. It’s only a fleeting, passing glance. He goes straight back to trying to comfort the child, who is now sobbing hysterically.
But in that second, I saw something in his gaze—something that makes me freeze on the sidewalk. I’m not even sure what it was, but it stops me in my tracks.
I turn to face the two of them, kneeling down to get on the child’s level. I start to rummage in my purse for my secret weapon, and feel it next to my apartment keys: the plastic head and neck of a little dinosaur.
A customer left it at one of my tables a few days ago. It’s one of the ones with long necks and tails, diminutive, only about the size of my palm. I hold it out to face the little boy, who pauses in his crying—out of sheer confusion, if nothing else.
“Do you know this guy?” I ask him.
The little boy blinks at me, his eyes red, tears still lingering behind his lashes.
“He says that you’re his friend,” I explain. “What’s your name?”
The little boy sniffles, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “Archie,” he says in a small voice.
“Archie?” I turn the dinosaur toward myself, staring into its plastic face. “Is that right?”
The dinosaur and I both look back at Archie, and I shake my hand so that the dinosaur wiggles. I put on a deep, fake-gruff voice and say, “‘That’s right. That’s my friend Archie.’”
The little boy smiles, his tears temporarily forgotten. That’s all the encouragement I need.
“‘I got lost the other day, so I’ve been looking for all of my friends,’” the dinosaur tells Archie, its voice cracking as I strain my vocal chords too low. “‘I rode the subway in this lady’s purse so that I could get here.’”
The little boy’s smile turns into a bright laugh.
“You know what?” I hold the dinosaur out to him. “Since you guys are pals, and he’s so attached to you, you should probably keep him. What do you say?”
He beams. “Okay!”
“You’re gonna take care of him, right?”
Archie nods, reaching out to take the dinosaur. As soon as I let go, he hugs it to his chest, delighted. “I’m gonna take care of him forever!”
I grin at him—he’s a cute kid. I stand up, shooting a smile at the man. He stares directly at me, this time, and my breath catches as he meets my gaze. His eyes are dark blue, like the sea, and almost otherworldly.
I don’t feel the need to say anything to him. I don’t want him to feel like he owes me, or anything, just for being nice to his kid. So I say nothing, just nod at him, hoping to seem friendly.
I’m about to continue on my way when he holds out a hand to stop me.
“Wait.”
* * *
Cole
She’s…interesting, this stranger who just stopped on the sidewalk to give Archie a toy. She very effectively stopped his crying, that’s for sure. And I’m grateful for that. I don’t have enough understanding of kids to be able to reason with Archie when he’s distressed, and it hurts to see him so upset.
Now that I have the chance to look her in the eye, I’m also a little taken aback by how attractive she is. She has delicate, soft features, and in the glinting rays of sunlight that creep through the clouds above, her brown eyes glow like honey. Her dark brown hair is pulled into a messy bun, flyaways poking out in all directions.
“What’s your name?” I ask her.
“I’m Riley.”
“Cole.” I hold out a hand to shake hers. Her handshake is surprisingly firm for someone who just did a fake voice for a plastic dinosaur. “Nice to meet you.”
“You, too,” she says. “Do you live around here?”
Sheepishly, I point to my house, directly next to us. We didn’t get far on our walk before things went south. I must seem like a horrible parent to her.
She doesn’t seem to judge me, though. She just smiles. “Oh, okay. You’re Noah’s neighbor, in that case.” She points to the house next to mine. “I was just visiting him.”
I know Noah. We’ve hung out a couple of times since he moved in, and I had him over for poker night with the guys a little while ago. He’s nice—fun. But even so, a flash of jealousy rushes through me, sudden and unexpected, at the thought that Riley is his girlfriend.
“He’s my brother from foster care,” she continues, and the jealousy fades, to be replaced by relief.
I’m not even sure why I’m relieved, to be honest. Why should I care if this girl is dating Noah?
“Oh,” I say. “I see. Well, he’s a good guy. I’ve met him a couple of times.”
“Yeah?” She smiles. “Glad he’s fitting in here in his new neighborhood.”
“You seem like you’re pretty good with kids,” I say. “Do you have experience?”
She blinks, surprised. “Experience? What do you mean—like, work? With kids?”
I nod, and her brow furrows.
“I used to babysit in high school,” she says. “I studied childhood development as part of my degree, but I didn’t have any hands-on experience in college.”
“What did you study?”
“Sociology. I just got out of grad school, and I’ve been looking for a job in social work.”
“Social work,” I echo. The beginnings of a thought are forming in my head, but before I can voice them, she glances down at her phone and sighs.
“Almost five—sorry,” she says, seeming genuinely apologetic. “I have to get to work.” She tucks the phone into her pocket, then adds, “But maybe I’ll see you around sometime when I visit my brother. Bye, Archie.” She waves down at him, smiling. “Make sure you take care of that dinosaur.”
“I will!” Archie says brightly, holding up his new friend. “I’ll take so much care of him!”
Riley chuckles, gives me a nod and a smile, and heads off down the sidewalk. I stare after her, dumbfounded, until I feel a tug at my sleeve.
I glance down at Archie, who’s still beaming. He holds up his new dinosaur proudly. “Do you see him?”
“Sure do,” I say, ruffling his hair absent-mindedly. “That’s a great dino you’ve got there. Do you think he wants to come with us to get cupcakes?”
Archie frowns, humming in thought as he looks down at the dinosaur. Then he declares, “He doesn’t like cupcakes, but he’ll come with us!”
“Sounds good,” I say. “Let’s go.”
We set off toward the cupcake shop. There’s a new spring in Archie’s step as he skips along, clinging to my arm, waving the dinosaur around like it’s running alongside him.
As we go, I pull out my phone and dial my assistant’s number. She picks up on the third ring.
“Mr. Sullivan? What can I do for you?”
“Hi, Kerry,” I say, watching Archie play with his new toy. “How many more interviews do I have scheduled for prospective nannies?”
“You have four more tomorrow, then two that couldn’t meet until Tuesday,” she replies swiftly. “Why?”
“You can go ahead and cancel those.” I’m not even entirely sure why. I just know that there’s no point in meeting all of these candidates, none of whom will be the right person for the job.
“If-if you’re sure,” she stammers. “Any particular reason?”
Even though she can’t see me, I shrug. “I’ll explain everything later,” I tell her, and mentally add, Once I’ve figured it out myself.
“Okay,” Kerry says, her tone dubious. “Whatever you say. Will that be all?”
“Yes, that’s all. Thanks.” I hang up the phone, slipping it back into my pocket, and smile down at Archer. “You ready to go, buddy?”
I take Archie for cupcakes, and indulgently get him two, since he insists that his new dinosaur might feel left out. Of course, once I’ve picked up our cupcakes from the counter, Archie quickly remembers that his dinosaur isn’t a big fan of frosted treats.
“Well,” I say with a heavy sigh, “I guess you’ll just have to eat both of them, won’t you?”
Archie nods solemnly. “I guess,” he says, his head bowed under the weight of responsibility.
Archie and I sit outside, enjoying our treats, then walk back home. I spend the rest of the evening with him, and after dinner and a bath, I usher him up to his room for bed.
Archie carefully places his new dinosaur on the pillow beside him, looking up at me with huge, round eyes. I know exactly what he wants. I pull the covers up to his chin, making sure to tuck in the dinosaur alongside him.
“You know, you’re gonna have to give him a name,” I tell Archie. “Any ideas?”
Sleepily, Archie shakes his head. “Not yet.”
“Well, you’d better sleep on it. Maybe it’ll come to you in a dream.”
Archie’s eyes flutter shut, and I sit on the side of his bed for a few moments, watching him as he drifts off to sleep. Sighing, I stand and plug in his nightlight, then leave, closing the door behind me.
Now that Archie is down for the night, I have some time to myself. I sit down in my office to get some work done, pouring myself a glass of scotch with a single, large cube of ice. I spend about an hour in there, drafting a few emails to send out the next morning, before I hear a knock at the door.
That’ll be either Declan or Reed—whichever of them has arrived first for poker night.
I get up to open the door, taking the scotch with me. It’s an expensive single-malt that I know Declan in particular would be eager to try.
It’s Reed at the door.
“Hey, man,” I say, inviting him inside. “Come on in. Is Declan running late or something?”
“Not sure,” Reed says with a shrug, hanging up his jacket on the coat rack by the door. “You know how things are with him lately—between his company and his girl, he’s a busy guy. He’ll probably be here soon.”
Declan is the CEO of Dynasty, a company that manufactures exercise equipment. Between his company’s new marketing direction and his recent engagement to the love of his life, Declan hasn’t been as easy to reach as usual, but he’s still punctual—and never misses poker night, if he can help it. The tradition has lasted for years.
Declan shows up just as we’re setting up for the first game.
“What kept you?” Reed smirks. “Or should I say, who?”
Declan rolls his eyes good-naturedly. He’s wearing a well-fitting, tailored shirt that I’m pretty sure was a gift from his fiance, Sophie.
“Yeah, yeah,” says Declan. “Go ahead, talk shit. You were just as likely to be late tonight, and you know it.”
“Oh, I don’t think so! I’m not like you. I’m not in love.” He draws out the word, waving a hand as if to dismiss the idea.
Declan clicks his tongue, joining us at the table. I pour him a glass of scotch and flash him a wink, and he grins at me. He knows Reed doesn’t have a leg to stand on. He was only five minutes late, anyway, and it’s not as if this is a business meeting.
“You think I’m late because of Sophie?” Declan raises an eyebrow. “For your information, I was working late tonight.”
Not to be outdone, Reed says, “Sure—tonight. But don’t act like you haven’t been hard to reach lately.”
Declan shrugs. “Sophie and I have been preparing for the wedding,” he says simply. “Between that and work, I’ve been stretched a little thin lately. Once we’re back from our honeymoon, things should settle down a bit.”
I sit down and start to shuffle the deck. “Where’s your honeymoon going to be, Dec?”
“We haven’t decided yet.” Declan sighs, giving me a nod of thanks as I deal out the first two cards to each of us. “Sophie wants me to choose, but I only want to choose a place where she’ll be able to fully relax.”
“There’s always Cancun,” says Reed, fanning his pair of cards out in front of him. He gives me a false look of dismay, his eyes going wide as though he’s devastated by his bad luck.
“Oh, shut the fuck up.” I try to wave him down, but he turns fully to face Declan.
“Think about it,” he says, enthused. “What’s more relaxing than the beach?”
“Beach sounds nice,” Declan admits. “But there’s no way in hell we’re going to Cancun, so it’ll have to be somewhere else.”
“What’s wrong with Cancun?”
Declan and I make amused eye contact, and he says, “Well, the fact that you like it probably means something.”
“What?” Reed demands.
“He’s saying you’re a player, Reed,” I say, almost absent-mindedly, as I fold up my initial cards to take a peek at them.
Reed takes a long drink of scotch, then retorts, “At least I’m not chained down like you.” There’s a playful gleam in his eyes as he says it.
“No, you’re not. You’d rather chase after women who won’t give you the time of day,” Declan teases. “And all the better if it lands you in the messiest tabloids.”
Disgruntled, Reed makes a big show of scoffing—until Declan pulls his phone out of his pocket and starts to type.
“What are you doing?” Reed asks.
“Googling your name,” Declan responds, prompting a round of laughter from me and a horrified Reed snatching at the phone, leaning across the table.
“Hey, watch it,” I tell him. “That’s an expensive scotch. Don’t spill it. And if you ruin another deck of cards—”
“It’ll cost you a dollar fifty to replace them,” Declan says without looking up from his phone. “Are we putting you out? Ah, here we go—” He turns around the phone with a smug expression. “Us Weekly article on you from last week.”
Reed groans, his free hand rising to rub his forehead. “God, I was hoping you guys wouldn’t see that shit.”
“After the whole debacle with that heiress you brought to Nora’s party, I didn’t think it could get worse,” I tell him archly.
Reed has developed a reputation for pulling these kinds of stunts. As the owner of the upscale Eastwood hotel chain, an international franchise, he’s often rubbing shoulders with powerful people—and, as such, has made a name for himself amongst New York’s elite.
Unfortunately, they know him best for his tabloid-fodder romantic trysts with unattainable women. The latest scandal is hardly surprising.
“Oh, come on,” Declan mutters. “Isabella Fontana? The actress?”
Reed draws himself upright, sniffing. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
“It’s everyone’s business. Paparazzi got your ass outside of the Eastwood in Brooklyn.” Declan leans over to show me the pictures, and I snort in amusement at the shot of Reed, his shirt half-buttoned, flashing a coy wink at the hidden camera with his hand on the brunette woman’s waist.
Even though the photo is overexposed to hell and back, he still manages to look good. At six foot three, he towers over the woman, who looks familiar from some recent awards flick; the flash of the camera can’t even hide his amber-flecked brown eyes.
“Isn’t she married?” I ask idly, raising an eyebrow at him.
Reed clears his throat. “You know, I’m glad you asked that. She was married, yes. But she got divorced.”
“Because of you?” Declan snipes.
“No. Before me. By at least two months.” Reed smiles, pleased with himself. “Come on, fellas. Anyone gonna tell me I’m a good boy?”
I shake my head. “You’re a saint,” I say dryly.
Reed takes another swig of scotch, seemingly satisfied with that.
“What a fucking mess,” Declan comments.
“Oh, shut up, lover boy,” says Reed.
“Are we playing, or did you two come over here just to give each other shit?” I ask, looking between the two of them.
“That was a big part of the motivation,” Reed admits, “but I guess we can play poker while we’re at it.” He leans forward, studying his hand.
“Then ante up, gentlemen.”
With that, Declan, Reed and I each toss a chip into the center of the table, and our game finally gets started.
I burn the first card at the top of the deck, placing it off to the side, then start to deal out the next round. For a while, it’s quiet as all three of us sip our drinks, poring over the cards.
My hand isn’t great, so I clear my throat and say, “Check.”
“Raise,” says Reed, tossing another chip into the pot.
Declan frowns at his cards, narrowing his eyes from me to Reed, deep in thought. After a moment, he says, “I’ll call.”
Reed makes a hissing sound with his tongue like the sizzle of a stovetop, and play returns to me. While I’m placing new cards and pondering my piece-of-shit hand, Reed pipes up.
“Hey, didn’t you have a ton of interviews with nannies today, Cole? How’d that all turn out?”
I sigh. “To be honest, it was a fucking nightmare, for the most part.”
Reed guffaws. “How bad could it be?”
“You have no idea. Some of these women treated Archer like a cute dog, or something. They’d clearly never interacted with any kids in their entire lives.” I think back to some of my interviews from earlier in the day. “Ugh, the last one was this older woman who was, like, some type of governess or something. She was nasty to the poor kid.”
“That sucks,” Declan says sympathetically.
“One woman definitely lied on her resume,” I recall. “She said that she had eight years of early childhood care experience, but when she met Archie, she asked him, ‘How old are you, little guy? Ten?’”
Reed and Declan chuckle at that, and I smile along with them. As frustrating as it was at the time, I can laugh at it now.
“You’ll find someone,” Reed says confidently. “Keep your chin up, man.”
“Here’s hoping,” I say. I don’t mention the girl I met on the street earlier today, but she lingers in my thoughts, her smile bright like it was while she talked to Archie.
I can’t help but think that I’ve already found the perfect person for the job.