The waiter materializes at our table-side once more. “Ready to order?” he asks in an eager voice. The poor kid is probably seventeen with a terrible case of acne, but it’s fine. We order a kid’s pizza for Vivi and then decide to split a large one between us two adults—with black olives on the side. Then the server departs, and I smile at my daughter.
“All right, Vi, want to color before the food is here?” I ask before handing the little girl a coloring book and crayons. She settles in excitedly, her little fingers already reaching for the red Crayola. “Here, pop on some music too, if you want.” Then, I help her situate her little pink headphones over her ears and turn on her favorite Disney songs playlist.
“I’m going to color you a picture Marcy!” she exclaims before starting to hum and getting lost in her own little world of the Frozen sing-along.
“Viv really adores you,” I rumble to Marcy.
“The feeling is mutual,” my beautiful babysitter responds lightly. “Besides, who would share olive pizza with me otherwise?” she jests.
I nod.
“You guys are two peas in a pod. But thanks for being a good sport, Marce. I kind of promised myself that after Vivi’s mom and I split that I would make my kid a priority no matter what, and as you’ve guessed, Natasha is pretty absent as a parent. Both before and after the divorce.”
Marcy nods thoughtfully.
“That’s really awful,” she agrees. “Because Vivi is a great kid.”
“Yeah, right?” I nod. “Natasha was just so selfish.”
Marcy fixes me with a look.
“How so?”
I take a deep breath before revealing some of my ex’s bizarre demands.
“Well, she wanted to leave Vi with a nanny for a summer, so we could go to the Hamptons and party. Imagine that. We weren’t going to see our daughter for months.”
“Wow,” Marcy says, truly taken aback.
“I know, right? When I said I wasn’t comfortable with it, Natasha said she’d arrange for the nanny to bring Vivi out for occasional weekends, but again, I put the kibosh on that. Where I go, my daughter goes too,” I say in a firm tone.
Marcy nods.
“It must be hard being a single dad,” she says in a soft voice, shooting a look at my little girl. I grin.
“Well, at least I had that single dads’ Facebook group,” I quip. “What a lifesaver.”
Marcy goes quiet for a moment before lifting those big brown eyes to me.
“Relationships can be really complicated,” she murmurs, slipping one small hand over mine. “I’d never judge whatever happened between you and Natasha.”
My shoulders relax a bit at this statement because I realize I was nervous to bring up my catastrophe of a marriage. After all, Marcy’s young. Baggage like this could turn her off, and suddenly, I know that what the sweet woman thinks matters to me. It’s weird because I’ve only known Marcy since summer began, but she’s become an almost constant presence in my life, and I want to please her. I want her to feel comfortable, and her happiness is paramount to me. I didn’t expect to feel this way about a woman I basically pay to spend time with, but I’m man enough to recognize the signs.
Yeah, but that’s the thing. This isn’t a relationship, it’s just business, the voice in my head warns. Don’t go over the edge, Michaels.
I swat away my conscience for a change.
“Yeah, so my marriage was basically a disaster. What happened was a lot of fighting, a lot of mistrust, and a big disagreement on what matters in life. Natasha wanted my money and I wanted love. We were a terrible match, but we did make a great kid.” I look at Vivi and smile, my heart full of love for my little daughter as she bops her head along to the music, still coloring away.
“I’m sorry that happened to you,” Marcy murmurs. She squeezes my hand from across the table. “It’s shitty, and it’s shitty for Vi, too.”
I nod. “Yes, but we’re finally getting over it. I’m the full custodial parent, mostly because Natasha didn’t care. But fortunately, my little girl is resilient, and I haven’t noticed Vivi being down about it or anything.”
Marcy nods. “She is resilient. Kids are resilient, Jared. So long as you’re there for her, she’s going to be just fine,” she reassures.
I nod.
“Yeah, that’s what I tell myself,” I sigh, suddenly feeling exhausted by my own drama. “Let’s talk about something lighter,” I grin. “Tell me about something that you like doing in your free time.”
Marcy looks at me curiously.
“Well, I don’t know,” she begins slowly. “I don’t have a lot of hobbies, I guess, and I don’t have a lot of free time either. After all, whatever time I have outside of work, I’m with you,” she winks.
I smile at first, but then frown because it drives me fucking crazy how hard Marcy works. It just doesn’t seem fair that someone so young and beautiful should be stressed out all the time.