“Nice.” He nods. We can’t even hug good-bye without rousing Hannah’s suspicions. I squeeze his arm once, then watch him walk to his car. When I glance at Nick, his head is tilted slightly to one side as he shifts his gaze between me and Ollie’s old Mercedes.
I walk back toward him; Hannah has wrapped herself around his leg like a boa constrictor.
“I’m not staying,” Nick says. “I gotta get my friend’s bike back. But we could grab some dinner?”
I nod. What else is there to say in front of Hannah?
We havedinner at a Mexican place around the corner that I know from past experience is willing to cook Hannah somechicken nuggets, another one of those parental compromises that I swore I’d never make until I was making it. My plan was to expose my daughter to all sorts of interesting world cuisines, but it served only to reinforce her unwavering love for bland Middle-American fare. The great nugget compromise feels emblematic of my parenting.
Nick doesn’t ask me about Ollie during the meal. He asks Hannah about her day, though, and gets all the important details: Hannah got to play on her Nintendo Switch but only in Ollie’s car. She hasn’t met Ollie before, but he teaches dance. She wants to learn dance. Taekwondo is going pretty well. Mom is learning to dance. Every one of these comments is punctuated by Nick looking at me and then very deliberately looking away while I sip my iced tea and look out the window. Nick talks a bit about the tour, which is covering almost the entire country, followed by a possible two-month leg in Europe. He is radiating quiet excitement about it all, and I am happy to see him so happy. In spite of everything, I can’t begrudge him the joy that fills his whole being. He has worked hard for this; that much I know.
When we leave the restaurant at sunset with half of Hannah’s nuggets in a take-out container, Nick walks us back to our building and gives Hannah a huge hug, then sends her inside so he can speak to Mommy alone for a moment.
“It won’t last,” Nick says quietly, “that guy.”
“It’s really none of your business. And it’s not serious.”
“You let him meet our kid and it’s not serious?”
I look away for a moment. “Hannah had a birthday party that got cancelled. I brought her along. And I don’t have to defend myself to you.”
“Fair enough. But I know you, Laura. And he’s not the one. He’s going to bore you.”
“Because he shows up on time?”
“Is that the best thing he has going for him?”
I sigh. We both seem to decide not to fight. “Congrats on your tour,” I say.
“Thanks.” Nick gives me a gentle smile. “I’ll call you soon, okay?” He runs one hand down my arm, then waves at Hannah, gets on his borrowed motorcycle and drives away. Hannah watches him through the window of our lobby with a dreamy expression, like his exhaust fumes are made of rainbows.
