Page 11 of The Single Dad Dilemma

DARCY

Immediately after shaking Ridge’s hand and leaving the interview, I hopped into my car, drove to the house I rent with Lyric, and squealed as I flopped onto my bed. Then I promptly grabbed my laptop, checked the math for a fifth time, and sent Ridge an email confirming I would start and told him how much I need.

I could have told him how much I need while I was sitting there. I knew the exact amount because I’ve been combing over it to make sure every dollar and cent is accounted for. He wanted me to go home before I even accepted the position, but I knew I wanted it the moment he said he could give me what I need.

And I don’t know, Ridge doesn’t look rich or anything. But he seemed very confident he could match what I need without even knowing what it is. So maybe he has more money than I assumed. How much do tattoo artists make, anyway? It’s not really something I’ve thought about, and I don’t know anyone I could ask. Either way, he seems confident, and I’m not looking this gift horse in the mouth.

“Hey, I’m home!” Lyric calls out at the same time I hear the front door open and shut.

I stroll out of my room with a lightness I haven’t had all week. There’s a little less doom and gloom to carry around now, and I know she will notice.

“Hi,” I say, coming into the living room.

She’s shrugging off her cardigan and kicking off her shoes when she meets my eyes.

“I take it the interview went well?” she asks, already unclipping the snaps on her bra and tugging it out of her arm hole. She breathes an audible sigh, and I can’t help but giggle at how instantly wonderful it feels to not be squashed inside those things.

“It did and I start tomorrow!”

“Wow, that’s great!” she says, clapping her hands together. “Is it going to be enough, or are you going to have to work more than one job?”

“It’s going to be enough,” I say. And because I think it’s wild, I add, “He told me to go home and email him how much I need and he would make sure that’s what I get.”

“Whoa,” she says.

Lyric’s eyes grow wide like I imagine mine did when I was sitting in front of Ridge.

“I know, right?”

“Are they rich or something?”

“It’s just the dad, Ridge, and his daughter, Lou. Which is short for Louise. Her mom died giving birth.”

“Damn,” she says. “How sad.”

“It is sad, but Ridge didn’t say much about it. I don’t know the whole story.”

We migrate toward the kitchen, where Lyric takes out one of the meal prep containers we made over the weekend. Between the two of us, we prepare almost everything we eat in advance. Our schedules don’t line up at all, especially when I’m in school.

“Wait a second,” she says, her eyes narrowing at me. “So what’s this Ridge fellow look like?”

Oh dear. I was afraid this might happen. I can feel the warmth in my cheeks and I haven’t even started to describe him.

“Well, he’s much older obviously. I’m not sure exactly, but I would think he’s well into his thirties.”

When I don’t go on, she prompts me for more.

“And?” She pulls a fork from the drawer.

“And… he’s… tall.”

“Okay, and?” Lyric’s eyes are practically slits at this point, like she’s waiting for me to confirm some truth she already knows.

“I mean, he’s attractive,” I say, my voice low. I try to convey as much nonchalance with tone and body language as I can, giving an extra-dramatic shrug.

“Aha!”

“What?” I yelp.

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