Page 22 of Bobby

“Well, you can’t do both. We need to pick one.” I’m not pushing my luck by getting Bobby to agree to more than one after-school program. He’s already being overgenerous.

He came inside each one with us, letting me lead the questions and only asking the ones I missed. He made it very clear to the administration that I was the one making the final decision, and I absolutely adored that. My ex always made it a point to prove he was in charge in one way or another when we were together. I barely got a glance half the time when things were discussed about our future or our girls.

God, I still can’t believe he showed up to start a fight. If he were truly concerned about the girls’ being tardy, he would have called and demanded answers about their well-being. Instead, he made a point to show up at pickup time and draw a crowd as he tried to belittle me in front of the girls and prove to those around us that I’m an unfit single mom.

I had his tantrums handled well before today, but having Bobby and Marco to back me up? That felt amazing. I’m sure Trevor thinks I’m screwing Bobby. He couldn’t possibly believe a man like him would only want a friendship with someone like me—a woman Trevor sees as used up, who brings no value to the table. He likes fancy, flashy things. Like his new wife, who’s just four years younger than me, seven years younger than Trevor, but comes with wealth and a last name to make him appear better than he is. I’m not sure when he’ll learn that a name doesn’t make the man.

“I think the cooking classes sounded fun,” I say.

Both girls grimace. “You just want someone else to do the cooking.”

I chuckle. “True. I guess we’ll just have to keep thinking about it.”

“Actually, I meant dinner,” Bobby cuts in. “What do you all want to eat?”

“I want spaghetti!” Lily screeches.

Ivy is no better, shouting out her answer. “Pizza!”

I try to shush them as I say, “Oh, ahh, I’m sure you have other things to do than have dinner with us. I wasn’t planning on making anything fancy tonight.”

Not that ramen the other night was fancy, but I hope he didn’t expect some hidden talent in the kitchen. I can cook well enough for my kids to like it and a few specialties, but nothing truly magnificent.

He chuckles softly with a shake of his head. “When are you going to learn?” he mumbles just loud enough for me to hear him before he clears his throat and speaks up. “Marco, please take us to Da Nonna Leone.” He looks back at me. “It’s Italian and has a little of everything, including what the girls want.”

“Yay,” they say simultaneously before talking to each other and completely ignoring Bobby and me.

“You really don’t have to—” I start, but he covers my hand before I can finish.

“Something you should start learning is if I don’t want to do something, I won’t. And when I do, I offer it up. I want to take your family out to dinner. If you would prefer to part ways, though, I can drop you off instead.”

He leaves it open. No strings attached, just a simple friendly gesture. But I’m not sure if it’s coming from my boss or from Bobby. They feel like two very different people.

“I don’t know what to do,” I whisper.

He squeezes my hand a second before moving it away, and I miss the warmth instantly. “Come to dinner with me. Not as your boss, but as friends. We are friends, after all—right, Willow?”

My lips tip up as I nod. “Yes Bobby, we’re friends.”

That’s what I’ll do from now on. Friends outside the office, boss and employee inside. I doubt it will be hard to differentiate between the two after today. How often are we even going to see each other now that things are lined up and I have emails alerting me of my new job location in the building? The only thing missing is who my immediate contact will be, but I bet I’ll learn that tomorrow.

Tonight, we’re friends. Tomorrow, coworkers. It’s as simple as that.

He gives me a small smile, unaware of what it does to my insides, before turning back to the girls. “And afterward, we can stop by a craft store to get Ivy some fresh supplies for her jerboa.”

Okay, where the hell did this friend come from? And how do I get a second? Because this man is not only taking care of me and my needs but my girls too.

I’m never going to survive another friendship with a man who isn’t half as decent as the one sitting next to me.

“I’m sorry, what?” I must have blacked out—misheard him. That’s the only thing that makes sense.

“I said you will be reporting to me directly.”

Okay, that’s what I thought he said.

“But… why?” I look around his office as if that would explain any of this.

He tilts his head and gives me a disappointed look. “Did you not read the contract like I advised you to?”