Page 18 of Love Notes & Lifelines
I’m just turning the fourth lock on my door when my phone rings. SDH pops up on the caller ID and nervous energy makes my palms sweat. I’ve only had a handful of calls so far, and they’re all routed through the Single Dad Hotline—Lottie said it was to maintain our privacy.
I run to the sofa and answer in the way I was mentored. “Single Dad Hotline, I’m your helper. How can I help you?”
Heavy breathing then a song I heard earlier is muffled through a crackling connection. No. No. No. This can’t be happening. Hitting the speaker button, I scroll through my emails.
There’s no way Lottie would approve him this fast, would she?
“Hello?” he asks, and a cold sweat covers my exposed skin.
“Y—Yes, how can I help you?” Can Beck hear the panic in my voice? Crap, does he recognize my voice? I hold out my phone, put it on speaker, then determinedly roughen my tone.
“I, ah, I’m new. To all of this, I mean.” His chuckle is humorless, and I can envision his hands mussing up his hair. “I was given two girls today, and this is ridiculous, but I don’t know how to get them to bed. Emmy, she’s the oldest, says there’s a routine, but I don’t know what it is. I left their instructions in my office because they were starving, and hungry kids cry—a lot—and loudly. It’s my first night, and I don’t want to call my assistant to get it. I have to be able to handle this shit.”
I find the offending email from Lottie just as he stops talking.
From: Lottie
To: Stella
Subject: New Client!!!!
“Okay, take a deep breath,” I say, hoping I sound calm and in control and nothing like myself. “How long have you been attempting bedtime?”
He curses under his breath. “Since seven.”
“Wow. Okay. It’s been a rough night. You said Emmy?” I ask, playing dumb. It’s a stupid idea, but until I can get him transferred to someone else, I need to help the guy without completely embarrassing him or breaking my four-hundred-page contract.
“Yeah. Ah, she said I need to brush their teeth, and I tried, I really did, but the little one bites on the bristles and won’t let go. She’s worse than Dog.”
“Daisie,” a little voice corrects, and I cover my mouth with both hands. Emmy has a delightful stubborn streak a mile long.
“Ah, anyway, then I read them stories. So many stories. But what do I do now? There’s some song, a woman who works for me was kind enough to put it on my phone, but there are a million songs on my phone, and I can’t find it,” he grumbles.
I try to shrug off the icky feeling I have for deceiving him in this way.
“Okay, no worries.” I hope the gravelly nature of my fake voice is enough to keep him from recognizing me. With the exception of one night I’m sure he hasn’t thought of since, and the chaos of today, we’ve barely spoken. There’s no way he could pull my name from this conversation now—still, I find myself crossing my fingers and toes. “What did you say your name was?”
“Beck Ha—” He stops short of his last name. Is he remembering Lottie’s rules about oversharing?
“Well, hello, Beck. It’s nice to meet you.”
“And you are?” he asks over the sound of Ruby’s cries. “You sound?—”
“Ah, Jane. I’m Jane,” I answer with my middle name like a squeaky robot. This is wrong—so wrong. What am I doing?
He chuckles. “It’s not your real name, is it?”
“No, but rules are rules. Now, am I on speaker? Can I talk to Emmy?” Sniffling fills the silence. “Emmy? You there, sweetheart?”
“Y—Yes.” I can picture the tremble of her lip and I pout in sympathy. These girls must be terrified. “Can you sing the song for me? Maybe I’ll know it.”
She hums the chorus, and after a few beats, I jump in. “Today is your lucky day, sweetie. That song happens to be one of my favorites. If, ah, if Beck plays it for you, do you think you’ll be able to go to sleep?”
“Yes, Stella,” she whispers, and I hold my breath.
The silence nearly suffocates me. How the heck did she recognize my voice?
“Uncle Beck Daddy is back. Can you tell him?”
