Page 18 of Single Daddy To Go

“Yeah, this is where I go when I want to kick my feet up and catch some football. You know, drink beers and relax.”

“You mean you don’t always drink thirty dollar cocktails?” I tease. Oh god, I put my foot in it again. What’s going on with my big mouth? Why do I keep being such a sassy smart-ass?

But Rob likes it because he just throws his head back and laughs, showing off even white teeth.

“Not only do I not drink thirty dollar cocktails, but I think this space qualifies as a man cave,” he says with another amused chuckle. “Check this out.”

The billionaire pulls out a remote before pressing a green button, and then a grinding noise starts. The dark man grimaces.

“It’s not supposed to sound like that,” he grunts. “I paid top dollar for the best contractors. I don’t know why it sounds like a fucking squeaky garage door.”

But I can’t speak because slowly but surely, the wall is beginning to rotate and turn clockwise.

“Oh my god, it’s a hidden wall, like they have in detective movies!” I gasp.

“Not exactly a hidden wall,” Rob corrects. “But it’s my personal bar,” he says. “Complete with top shelf liquor, warm nuts, and magazines at your disposal. Whatever you need is here,” he says.

It’s my turn to laugh then.

“But why do you have to hide it?” I ask. “You live here alone, right?”

Suddenly, I’m caught off guard again. Maybe he doesn’t live here alone. Maybe he has a girlfriend, or even worse, he’s still sharing it with his ex-wife. Is that even possible? My mind whirs. There were times when Katie’s mom came in, but I don’t remember them clearly. All I remember is a skinny blonde who always had ginormous sunglasses on, and a sour, nasty expression on her face. She was always angry with her daughter for some reason or other, although Katie is an absolute angel. There’s no way he’s still living with her, right?

The billionaire shrugs, and I’m relieved.

“Yeah, I have this place to myself. Lindsay moved out a long time ago. Before we even technically “separated,” in fact. We just weren’t getting along,” he says matter of factly.

I want to ask more, but it seems inappropriate. Instead, I just nod with what I hope is an empathic expression.

“It sounds terrible,” I murmur. “I hope you’re okay.”

Rob shrugs again.

“It’s been a long time,” he says casually, although there’s an edge to his tone. “My marriage was over long before we decided to divorce. We’d been leading separate lives, and to be honest, nothing was keeping us together except for our daughter and the fact that we shared a roof. One day, we looked at each other and realized there was nothing gained by staying married. What was the point? We’d be happier apart, and so would our daughter.”

I nod sympathetically.

“Kids are really smart,” I say slowly. “Even if you take pains never to show your distress, they’re like sensitive radars. They can pick it up.”

He nods.

“Yeah, Katie was really young, but we could tell she was affected by the tension, even though we tried not to fight in front of her. She’d burst into tears if she thought I was upset, even if I wasn’t upset at her.”

I nod again.

“Kids are sensitive,” I say quietly. “I see it all the time in my work. The ones who come from troubled homes have difficulty settling down in the morning. Even though they’re only two, they’re already acting out, instead of exploring a new environment or learning skills. Instead, they’re trying to express the fact that their home lives are less than ideal, even if they don’t have the words for it yet.”

Rob shoots me a look.

“So what do you do with the troubled kids?” he asks. “How do you help them fit in?”

This is a tricky question because parents don’t want their child impacted by another child’s problems. Fortunately, I’ve been asked this question many times in the past, and I deliver my answer with sincerity and a genuine belief that this is the right approach.

“We work with every child one-on-one, so every child gets the care and attention that they need,” I say. “It can be very individualized, and much more than an onlooker realizes. For example, if two kids are playing with ponies, and the troubled one begins to make the ponies fight, I’ll intervene. I’ll talk with the troubled child to find out why the pony is unhappy, why they’re fighting, and what that fighting means. Meanwhile, another teacher will work with the other child, and continue the pony play in a much less challenging setting.”

Rob looks thoughtful.

“Interesting,” he rumbles. “And do you have a lot of troubled kids at Ladybug?”