The Single Dad Arrangement

by Wylder, Penny

  It takes a colossal effort, but I force myself to still my hips and reach up to catch his wrist, gently prying his fingertip away from me. He flattens his palm over my belly instead, a little crease appearing between his brows. He tilts his head in a question. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” I lie. “Just a little sore.” I force a grin. “We did go hard last night.”

  He grins back and leans in to kiss me, and it’s still echoing through my mind. What he said last night.

  I clear my throat and try again for casual. “But, the other thing you said… When you said you refused to lose me. What was that about?” The moment I say it, something flashes across his expression. Regret, maybe, or fear? I lift an eyebrow and shuffle closer, reaching up to cup his cheek. The way he leans into my touch, his stubble sharp against my palm, drives me as wild as anything else he does.

  “I…” He swallows hard. Glances at the window, as though it can save him, and then back at me. “Yesterday, I had a phone call. From my ex.”

  Now it’s my turn to crease my brow. I lean back, away from him, my mind already racing. His ex. The woman he has a child with. I know he’s divorced, but I don’t know what happened, just that he said he doesn’t really have much contact with her anymore. Still, she’s the mother of his child. If something’s starting up between them again… “What about?” I manage, in what I hope sounds like a nonchalant tone. To judge by the way his face falls, though, I sound anything but casual.

  He takes a deep breath. “Well. It turns out you know her too, actually.”

  I blink, confused. “What?”

  “Listen, Tilly, I don’t speak to her much, I have no idea what’s going on in her day-to-day life. I didn’t even realize she’d started a company until she called me up yesterday. I didn’t know she was your boss, that she founded Party Princesses…”

  My stomach hits the floor. Sinks through it. “Hold on.” I sit straight up in bed, the covers falling off me. “Your ex-wife is Tricia Connery?”

  He grimaces. “I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”

  I shake my head, ears ringing. “But…” And then it hits me. Yesterday. “Oh god. I told her about us. I thought, because we were getting serious, and because we met on the job and she’s so big on proper behavior and sticking to all these etiquette rules she sets for us, that it was a good idea—”

  “I know,” he cuts me off with a grimace. He reaches for my hand, catches it and squeezes my fingertips so hard it almost hurts. “Believe me, Tilly. I know better than anyone how she can be. Fuck, for all I know, she sent you on purpose because she knew you’d be just my type.” He shuts his eyes, jaw clenched, and shakes his head. “This is on Tricia; she should have told me when I called to hire you in the first place, whenever she saw my name on the client list. I talked to some front desk woman about the booking, but surely she saw it come across her desk…”

  But my mind is racing in another direction. “But she seemed okay with it. When I talked to her. She just said as long as we both felt the same way and I wasn’t going to do something like this again…”

  When he opens his eyes again, the pain in them hits me like a punch to the gut. “Tilly, she called me yesterday to demand I break it off with you. She threatened to fire you if I don’t.”

  I pull away from him, fling back the covers and shove out of bed. I start to pace back and forth across the floor, barely even noticing what I’m doing.

  “Tilly?” Killian ventures, after a long pause during which I haven’t said a thing.

  “What do you want?” I ask, my voice raising a notch. “I mean, if this is just a, just a casual thing, then maybe…”

  “Tilly.” He’s out of the bed now, standing in front of me. He catches me mid-pace and stills me with a single caress of his hands, up and down my arms, as he catches my eye. “Tilly, I want you. I’m not going to break up with you over some threat from my bitter ex.” He shakes his head. “You don’t need that job anyway. You want to work on your books—that’s what you should be doing now. I can take care of you.”

  My eyes widen. “What?” I step backwards, brush his hands off my shoulders. “What are you talking about? Do you think I’m some helpless child out here looking for a sugar daddy to take care of me?”

  “No, of course not—”

  “We’ve only been dating for a few weeks!” My voice raises an octave. “And yes, it’s been amazing, and I love being with you, Killian, but I’m not about to give up my entire career, my only income right now, for… I mean just to… I’m not your pet!” I shout, even though I know, deep down, that it’s not him I’m angry with. He’s not the one forcing me into this position.

  But the idea of relying on him for everything, of giving up the only secure, reliable way I have to pay my bills right now… it’s terrifying. Even if there’s a tiny part of me that’s whispering about how it would give me a chance to really focus, to get back to my writing, to aim for the dreams I really want, instead of wasting my time playing princess dress-up…

  But I need Ms. Connery for that too. I’m depending on her introducing me to her friend, the accomplished illustrator who already saw and liked my sample pages. An introduction like that, if it winds up working out as a partnership, could be the difference between achieving my dreams and playing princess forever.

  I need her on my good side. I need this job. I need so many things that are now standing directly in the way of this man in front of me. A man I’d been starting to think I might need, too.

  I shake my head, and force out those thoughts.

  “Tilly, I’m sorry,” he’s saying, trying to reach for me again, trying to catch my eye. “I don’t think you’re helpless, and I don’t want to make you feel like a kept woman or a pet or anything. I respect the hell out of you, Tilly. I just…” He runs a hand through his hair, then clenches a fist in it. He tugs so hard I worry that a few hairs will pull out when he finally yanks his hand away. “I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want this to end.” He steps in front of me, and I finally lift my eyes to his again, meet his gaze head on.

  That’s when he says it. His whole body stills, his eyes go darker and more serious than ever. “I love you, Tilly,” he says.

  Something inside me snaps. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, barely able to force the words out. I reach down to gather up my dress. I feel ridiculous, so I slide into the bathroom to tie myself back into it. And then, without another word or a glance to him, despite the way he says my name over and over as though it’s breaking his heart, I brush past him on my way out of the pool house.

  “I have some thinking to do,” I say, once I’m safely outside on the lawn, where the early morning air, sharp in my lungs, helps to clear my head a little. I breathe it in deep, hold it a couple seconds, let it out in a slow, steady breath. “I need to sort out my priorities, get my head on straight. Okay?”

  “Of course.” He’s nodding, but I can’t stand the look on his face. The hopeful, hungry one that tells me without any words at all just how badly he doesn’t want me to walk away right now.

  And I don’t want to walk away either. I want to stay here with him. I want to rewind time to just an hour ago, when I was curled up comfortably in his arms, oblivious to all of this. Unaware of the fact that our relationship and my career and life goals stand in direct opposition to one another.

  “I’ll… I’ll call you once I…” I shake my head, at a loss for words. “Once I figure this out.”

  But I can’t imagine, even as I stride away from him, what there is left to figure out. Tears blur in my eyes, making it difficult to see my way across the bright green lawn, past the white steps that lead away to the pool, around the hedges toward the front driveway, where my car is parked and waiting. I unlock the doors, and only once I’m inside do I allow a few of those tears to fall. I wipe at my cheeks with the back of my hand, angry at Tricia for being so fucking controlling and vindictive, angry at Killian for being so impossible to resist, but above all…

>   Angry at myself. Angry that I let myself get into a situation like this. I’ve always prided myself on putting my career first. I know what I want from life, and I go after it, without hesitation. That’s who I’ve always been. So how could I have let myself get so off-course? Especially when I’m finally so close to a real break. So close to finding an illustrator who gets me, to partnering with someone who knows the industry in and out, and whose art I admire, and whose style I think would jive perfectly with the stories I want to tell.

  Tricia was going to give me that opportunity, that introduction I so desperately need. Plus, she also provides me with my paycheck. The job that keeps food in my fridge and an roof with functioning power over my head, and even leaves me with enough extra to pay off my student loans. I can’t afford to walk away from that.

  No matter what else—who else, it means walking away from.

  But the thought of just throwing away everything Killian and I have, the thought of abandoning this thing between us just when it’s starting to blossom… That feels impossible, too.

  I love you, he said, with those sincere gray eyes locked on me. And I believe him. And I want to turn right back around and run into his arms and hear him say it over and over again. I want to look him in the eyes and tell him that I think I might love him too, or at least be starting to. I want to fall back into bed, where everything felt safe and simple and easy.

  Instead, I put the car into reverse. It’s only when I look in the rearview that I notice Killian standing on his lawn, hands in the pockets of his jeans, shirt off, watching me go with a forlorn expression on his face.

  13

  Tilly

  Every time I close my eyes, I see him standing out there on the lawn again, watching me go with the hurt of a broken heart in his eyes. I thought it would be easier this way. I thought I was sparing him. If I’d stayed, if I’d let him say he loved me again, if I’d let myself whisper it back, then how much worse would it be now?

  Because I did have to leave.

  That’s what I keep telling myself. All throughout the next day, as I go through the motions. I go to work, I plaster on a stupid, vapid smile and attempt to act like the happiest Party Princess to ever grace the earth. For the kids’ sake. But even they don’t seem fooled. At my party that day, the birthday girl came over to hand me a piece of cake herself and said, “Cake is good for princesses. It makes the sad go away.”

  I laughed at that, but it sounded fake even to me.

  God, I’m so pathetic that even small children are able to sense how devastated I feel. This is not good. Especially not if I really am choosing my job over Killian right now. How much longer will I keep this job if I start getting reviews like “She was really depressed and trying not to cry for the whole party”?

  I saw Tricia at the office, but only in passing. Part of me wanted to slap her. Instead, I forced a way-too-big smile, and she beamed back at me, her eyes sharp and knowing. Like she understands exactly how deep she’s cutting me, and she’s enjoying it.

  But all she actually says to me is “Good morning” and “Hope you’re having a good day.” So I just said it right back and then watched her sail past into another meeting, before I headed off to this party.

  I guess that smile and greeting must mean I still have my job though, right? It must mean Killian told her things are off between us.

  Are things off?

  He texted me this morning. Nothing elaborate, just a simple, Miss you. Then he texted me again, while I was in the middle of work, saying I wish we could talk.

  I wish we could too. But I don’t even know what I would say to him right now.

  What do I want? I stare into the mirror when I get home that night, while I’m trying my best to scramble out of my party gown without any help from my roommate, since Jayne is out late with some other friends tonight. They invited me to go along, but I feigned a stomach bug, and even though Jayne’s pointed look told me she wasn’t buying it, she didn’t press. She’s just that kind of friend. She knows that when I’m ready to talk, I’ll talk, and until then, prying is pointless.

  I turn back and forth in the mirror, dressed in saggy PJs, and I tell myself this is for the best. If Killian and I tried to stay together, tried to make things work, I have no doubt that on top of firing me, Tricia would make his life a living hell. And I refuse to do that to him—to make his life worse. Or his daughter’s.

  The thought of Lina sends another pang to my gut. The last thing I’d want is for her to get caught up in all of this. To be forced to choose between her parents all over again, if this blew up into a bigger fight—and to judge by Tricia’s reaction to me and Killian getting together, I’m sure it would.

  No. I love Killian, I’m sure about that now—after a day and more to think on it, I recognize the ache in my chest, the pang whenever I think about driving away from him, leaving him stranded on that front lawn.

  But because I love him, I need to be strong. I need to stick to my guns about walking away. I need to make his life, and Lina’s life, that much less complicated.

  So I go to bed early, and I pretend to sleep right through Jayne’s stumbled footsteps and her light knock on my door. And all night, I stare up at my ceiling, steeling myself for what I know I need to do in the morning.

  * * *

  I head straight to Ms. Connery’s office first thing. She’s on a phone call when I arrive, but I catch her eye through the glass paneling and she nods in a way that lets me know she sees me. While I wait, I make coffee, just for something to do with my hands. I don’t think I’ll actually be able to drink it—I’m too jittery. That much caffeine would send me straight over the edge.

  Finally, I hear her end her phone call and ask for me, voice raised just high enough to be heard over the distant sounds of construction, taking place on the far side of the building now. I take another deep breath, just to brace myself. But my heart is still racing as I step into her office. All I can think about is the devastated look on Killian’s face as I drove away from him yesterday. The texts he’s sent me since, which I’ve deleted because the urge to reply to them and reassure him was so strong.

  You’re doing this for him, I remind myself. For both him and Lina. They don’t need me complicating their lives.

  “Ms. Connery?” I linger in the doorway.

  She smiles at me, big and wide. “Please, you can call me Tricia, Tilly. I think we’re at the first-name stage by now.”

  I hesitate another moment. Something feels off. She looks way too happy right now, and it’s making my stomach curdle. Still, I step into the office and shut the door behind me. “I wanted to talk to you about—”

  “Our mutual interest?” she interrupts, a single eyebrow lifted.

  I press my lips together, then force myself to nod. “I spoke to Killian yesterday. He… told me everything. Ms. Conn—Tricia, I didn’t know who he was, I had no idea he was your ex—”

  She lifts a hand to stop me in my tracks. “I know, Tilly. And I’d like to keep it that way. I don’t advertise my personal life or air my dirty laundry in public, so please don’t mention him to anyone else in the company.”

  My cheeks flare bright red, but I shake my head. “I won’t.”

  She sighs. “And I know you weren’t aware of who he was at the time. If I’d thought he was going to try something as despicable and desperate as hitting on the help, I would have warned you before you went to that party, and for that, I apologize.” She has her lips pursed in distaste now, and I can’t help defending him.

  “It wasn’t like that. I mean, he wasn’t creepy or anything.”

  “Be that as it may,” she speaks over me, as though I didn’t say a word, “We still need to decide what to do moving forward.”

  “Right.” I squeeze my eyes shut, and tighten my fists at my sides. My nails, where they dig into my palms, are a sharp reminder of what I came here to do. “I’m going to stop seeing him. I don’t want to get in anyone’s way or create drama, and I de
finitely wouldn’t want to strain your relationship with your daughter, or his. It seems like the best choice for everyone.”

  “And the best choice for your career as well,” Tricia points out, a single eyebrow lifted. She’s smiling, but it’s a dangerous look, like a cat that just cornered a mouse. “I’m pleased you’re coming to your senses, Tilly. I knew you had a strong work ethic, but this really shows you’re able to go above and beyond in pursuit of your career. I admire that in a woman.”

  I clear my throat, uncomfortable. “It’s not just about my career,” I start to say, but like usual, she’s already talking as if I hadn’t spoken.

  “Unfortunately,” she says, “things aren’t quite so simple anymore. You want to retain your job here with me, correct?” She tilts her head forward.

  I frown, confused. “Yes. If it’s possible.”

  “And you’d still like me to set up that meeting with my illustrator contact—who wrote to me this morning, by the way, about finding a time the two of you could sit down and talk.”

  My heart leaps. “Yes, I still want to meet her. That would be…” I shake my head. “I’m interested. But, Ms. Conn—Tricia…”

  “I’m glad to hear that, Tilly, because I still want to help you too. It’s just that I need a little something more from you now.” She leans forward, elbows on her desk, eyes narrowed.

  I take an involuntary step backward, worried.

  “You’re in the perfect position to help me. Just like I’m in the perfect position to help you,” she says.