Our Finest Hour (The Time #1)(38)

“When the orangutan tried to kiss Mommy.” She giggles, pink streaks of ice cream on either side of her mouth.

“What was that about?” Isaac asks. “In a past life, were you queen of the primates?”

I shake my head, confounded, and swallow the massive amount of sugar in my mouth. “He walked up to where I was standing, put his hands on the glass, and blew me a kiss.” I laugh, remembering the big puckered lips. “It was shocking. To say the least.”

“It was hilarious. I wish I’d been faster with my phone. Your face was priceless.”

“I wish I’d thought to return the kiss.” I pretend to blow a kiss at Claire.

“Ewww, Mommy. You can't kiss a monkey.”

I shrug and take another bite of ice cream.

“What are your plans this week?” Isaac asks me.

“Typical week. Work. Claire will go to school. You?”

“Appointments. Surgeries. Typical week.” He looks so nonchalant when he says it. Like surgery is no big deal. “I was wondering if I can tag along some time when you take Claire to school.” He leans back in his seat and smiles at Claire.

“Yeah yeah yeah! Daddy can take me to school.”

Claire's spoon goes right back into her bowl as if she hadn’t said what she just said.

My mouth drops open. Isaac stares at Claire, dazed.

“Daddy?” His whisper is so low I barely hear him.

My loaded spoon drops back into the bowl. I’ve lost my desire for it. “She called you Daddy this morning too. Right before we left to meet you.”

His eyes are shiny. “You guys have to move in with me. I need to be a dad, full-time.” He swallows hard. “I can't be a part-time dad. I just can’t.”

“Isaac, it's too soon.”

“Please think about it.” He's looking at Claire, but his words are for me.

I nod. “I will.”

Isaac is quiet while Claire finishes. I don't try to talk to him. Maybe he needs to think.

When she's done, he walks us to my car.

“Monday morning,” he says, opening up the back door and swinging Claire into the air. She squeals. He sets her in her car seat and, after a few seconds studying the straps, buckles her in. I'm impressed. Five-point harnesses baffle most people.

“You want to come to school with us Monday morning?” I ask after he says goodbye to Claire and closes her door.

“Is that OK? I don't have patients until nine.”

“I drop her off at 8:30. I have to be at work by nine too.”

A small, ironic smile slips out the side of his mouth.

“What's so funny?”

“I still find it funny you’re an underwriter.”

I roll my eyes. “It's not exactly what I went to college for.” I glance at Claire. She's paging through a book. “It was a desperate time, and I graduated college with an infant. I started as an assistant. Then I took my Series 7 and 63, and here I am.” I put my hands in the air, palms up.

Isaac steps closer. The heat I felt when I went to his apartment starts up, like a push-to-start burner. “I love how you handled everything. How you took care of our girl. How you worked so hard.”

I don't know how to work in any way but hard. I'm not a soft person. I don't wallow. Shit got tough, but I handled it. I hardly think that makes me special.

“It's what a decent human being would do. It's what we're hard-wired to do—care for our young. Most of us, anyway.”

Isaac catches my hand and squeezes. “Most of us.” He steps back, and my hand falls from his grip. “See you Monday morning. At your dad's house. Eight-fifteen.”

“Eight-fifteen,” I echo, watching him walk away.

“Mommy, let’s go.” Claire's impatient voice sounds from the backseat.

I climb in and drive home, my mind full.

How can I possibly say yes to Isaac? What about my dad? We have a rhythm. A routine. On Friday nights, I make tacos and he cleans up the kitchen. I fold all his laundry. He reads extra bedtime stories to Claire. He's not just my dad anymore. He's my friend.

Isaac's invitation plagues me all night, gnawing at my stomach and stealing my appetite. At dinner I attempt to eat but end up pushing the food around on my plate. My dad asks about our zoo trip, I give a perfunctory answer, and he scrutinizes me but stays quiet. By the time I lay down to sleep, my brain is exhausted.

I haven't decided one way or the other. All I know is that I have to do what's right for Claire. I'm just not sure what that is.





She called me Daddy.

Daddy.

My little girl called me Daddy.

Her tiny voice, thrilled at the idea of having me take her to school, so excited she called me Daddy. A second time, according to Aubrey. I knew right then they should come live with me. Screw the timing.

We barely know each other. Aubrey’s right. Maybe we'll drive each other crazy. Maybe Aubrey is a slob. Maybe she leaves dishes on the counter. Maybe I leave dishes on the counter. Maybe all three of us will leave our damn dishes on the damn counter. Whatever. None of that matters.

Aubrey just needs time. She's a rational person, a person who evaluates risk for a living. She didn't understand why I was amused yesterday. How could something like that not be funny? Safety First Aubrey literally determines the riskiness of a business for a living. It's the perfect job for her.