“One night?” I call back, finally on route to my car.
“With the right man you could retire at the age of twenty-five.”
That’s much better than the “beautiful” complement, because I’m twenty-eight.
“Give me a call. The auction is on Friday, two days from now.”
“Sure!” I shout, popping my car door and jumping into the driver’s seat. I start the engine immediately, shaking off what feels like an even bigger fever dream than the night I spent with Carter Trescott.
I turn around to check the rearview mirror, and I can no longer see the man.
It wouldn’t surprise me if this was all just a figment of my imagination. Times are desperate. When I’m not trying to balance two jobs, I’m pulling out teeth trying to get Otis to eat his vegetables.
Newborns make life hard.
Toddlers make it impossible.
I make a right at the end of the road and head back to the city. Of course, Otis and I aren’t rich enough to live in the heart of it all. The suburbs are fine, even though I often question our safety.
I feel like I’m being watched, but maybe that’s just maternal paranoia kicking in. I never thought I’d say this, but Carter Trescott was the best thing that ever happened to me. He gave me his sperm and helped me produce the most beautiful baby boy that this world has ever seen.
And this is a fact—strangers approach me in the street just to say how gorgeous he is.
I have his father to thank for that.
A father that doesn’t even know Otis exists.
But it’s better this way. Simpler.
If Carter was involved in his life, I have no doubt he’d be teaching the two-year-old about the stock market, signing him up to online courses that promise a “head start” in life.
And yes, money is important, but it doesn’t need to be a person’s entire personality. I don’t want my baby boy turning out like Carter Trescott Jr. (the name Carter probably would’ve given our son if he had been involved).
Otis doesn’t need a millionaire dad who would’ve probably ended up disappearing later down the line anyway. What he needs is stability.
He has more of a chance in life with one parent instead of two.
Arriving home, I shift the gear stick into neutral and activate the parking brake. The car is due a service, but I’m enjoying seeing how many miles I can drive before the cops eventually pull me over.
A girl needs a little bit of adrenaline in her life to keep her on her toes.
I unlock the door and wince as soon as I hear movement. Sadie greets me at the door and I place the cash in her palm, plus forty for the extra hour.
“I’m so sorry. I got caught up at work.”
Sadie stifles a yawn and turns it into a smile. “No stress. Otis has been fast asleep for hours.”
“Thanks.”
“I also need to make you aware that my hourly rate is going up.”
This might be worse than the spilled coffee.
I nod and hope that my “okay” doesn’t sound too morbid.
Of course, this isn’t Sadie’s fault. The girl is simply trying to make a living, and I applaud her for that. Living is hard and it breaks the bank.
And guess who benefits?
