Single Dad’s Spring Break

by Rye Hart

  There was no denying it; Avery pretty much fit the job requirements perfectly.

  “Would you like to meet my girls?” I asked.

  As I sat there with her talking, I made the snap decision to move forward to the next step in the process. She was the first candidate that had made it this far; the only one I felt comfortable enough to move along. If I were to judge by the way her face lit up when I asked about meeting my girls, it gave me a very good feeling about potentially bringing her on board. Her happiness was genuine, not forced. I could tell she enjoyed being around children – a feeling I hadn't gotten from any of my other prospective candidates.

  “Of course!” she said, beaming with joy. “ I'd love to meet them.”

  I nodded. “Before you do, I just have one thing I need to mention. My daughter, Lola, can be timid with strangers,” I explained. “Maisie is a little more outgoing, but both went through quite a lot when their mother died.”

  I steeled my face and tamped down my nerves and emotions, locking them all in a box somewhere deep in the back of my mind. I was so used to it by now, it was second nature to me. An automatic reflex. Whenever I talked about Bree, I hid myself behind a mask. The pain was still too fresh. The wound too raw.

  Bree had been the light of my world, my everything. She had been the person I'd planned to spend the rest of my life with, and she'd been taken from me in an instant. Gone in a flash. Just like that.

  My two little girls had been with her when she died. Even though they'd been very young when it happened, and thankfully, the many therapists we'd seen said they probably didn't remember it in excruciating detail, they still bore the scars.

  They'd never really spoken of it with me, so I never really knew how much they remembered. Sometimes it seemed like they remembered nothing from the car accident that took their mother's life. Other times, it seemed like they relived it every single day.

  Especially my daughter, Lola, who'd struggled the most since the accident.

  “I understand, Mr. Sullivan,” Avery said. “I lost my mother when I was young too.”

  “I'm so sorry to hear that,” I said. “I see how my girls struggle sometimes. I can't imagine what it must be like to be in that position.”

  She gave me a polite smile, but there was a clear and obvious pain in her eyes. Apparently, time did not, in fact, heal all wounds. I could see that the memory of her loss hurt her still, even though she was an adult with two degrees and a wealth of experience behind her.

  As I looked at Avery, I wondered if my daughters would, like her, live with the blanket of their mother's death hovering over them like a shroud as adults. Or perhaps they might be spared that heartache. I certainly hoped for the latter.

  My mind was suddenly racing in a thousand different directions – none of them that would do any of us any good. I was letting the conversation get way off track, and I knew I needed to turn the focus back to where it belonged. I cleared my throat and continued.

  “I know that the move is also causing some stress for them,” I said. “And, I'm hoping to make the transition as easy as possible. I want things to be as normal and stable, per se, as they can be.”

  Which was why I wanted someone who was bilingual, who spoke both French and English. Moving to a foreign land filled with strange and different sights you weren't used to would be scary enough. But moving to a place with all of that, and where the language wasn't your own would be downright terrifying for anybody. I imagined it would be double that for my little girls.

  But, I hoped Avery could teach them French, so they could acclimate to their new lives and new home much quicker and much easier.

  “I bet it's very stressful on them,” she said. “And if I'm hired, I promise to absolutely do whatever I can to help them adjust to their new home.”

  I nodded. “I'm pleased to hear you say that,” I said. “I'll be right back then. Please excuse me.”

  I stood up and left my office, my footsteps echoing loudly around me as I walked down the hall. The large spiral staircase led to the second floor of my house; more specifically, to the playroom in which my children were playing.

  As I ascended the stairs, I walked past photos that showcased my once perfect family. Wedding photos of Bree and myself, smiling and as happy as only two people so deeply in love could be. Those were followed by photos of the birth of my girls – twins. We'd been ecstatic when they were born, completely over the moon. We'd always wanted a big family, and we thought having two perfectly precious little girls was the perfect way to start things off.

  Little had we known at the time, those would be the only children I'd ever have with my wife.

  The staircase wound around and ended in a loft that overlooked the foyer down below. I turned down the hallway, striding to the first door on the right, and pushed it open. I smiled, finding my two beautiful girls exactly where I'd expected to.

  They weren't identical twins, though most people assumed they were. They just looked very similar. Lola was the smaller of the two – an inch shorter and about five pounds less than her sister. Her hair was a darker shade of brown than Maisie’s and looked a lot closer to the color of my hair than her mother's. Both girls had their mom's serious brown eyes, along with her pale skin and freckles though.

  From where they were sitting beside each other on the floor, Maisie looked up at me first. They were playing Candyland, the game spread out on the floor in front of them. Maisie's eyes always looked so much older than they should for a girl of six. It was as if she understood the world better than most kids her age. Maybe better than she should.

  Lola, on the other hand, always looked a bit uneasy, almost frightened of her own shadow. It was as if she expected something to jump out from around the corner and bite her at any given moment. Maisie protected and guarded her sister, and the two had a bond stronger than I could ever imagine. Probably even stronger than I understood.

  “Would you like to meet your potential new nanny?” I asked them, smiling as I leaned against the door frame.

  Maisie smiled wide and her eyes lit up. “I'd love to!”

  Lola's eyes grew wide. She stared at her sister, as if she wanted to share her enthusiasm, but she couldn't muster up the nerve. She didn't say anything and looked away. She was always my shy, reserved little girl, while Maisie talked to anyone and everyone.

  “Come on then,” I said.

  Maisie stood up and rushed to the door, her smile as wide as her eyes were large. When she noticed that Lola wasn't following her though, she turned around and went back for her sister, grabbing her by the hand and hauled her to her feet.

  “It's going to be fun, Lola-bear,” she said. “Just wait and see.”

  Lola-bear. My heart ached hearing the nickname their mother had given Lola falling from Maisie's lips. It stuck, with all of us calling her that, almost as easily as if it had been her given name. But, to hear Maisie use it struck a chord within me and made my eyes well with tears.

  “Okay,” Lola said, her voice soft.

  She slowly stood up and walked over, standing beside her sister.. The three of us left the playroom together, Maisie's hand in mine, Lola's hand in hers. I shut the door behind us, but not before I took one last look into the colorful, rainbow colored room that Bree had designed for the girls herself. She'd picked out everything – including the massive vintage dollhouse that took up one entire wall. That had been custom built to her exact specifications.

  The girls loved it, and it would be coming with us to Paris without question. The rest of the room though – the mural Bree had painted herself with the rainbow and the clouds – that couldn't be packed in a suitcase and brought along. We had plenty of photos of course, and I was keeping this house for trips back to New York City when I needed to be there. But, for the most part, our move would be the end of an era.

  More tears threatened to fall as I thought about the sort of symbolism of closing this door behind me – and thought about what it might feel like when I did
it for the last time.

  “Daddy?” Maisie said.

  The girls were already at the stairs, staring back at me.

  “I'm coming,” I said, doing my best to sound chipper.

  I tried to subtly wiping my eyes with my hand so they didn't see the tears. The last thing I wanted was to upset them even more. They were already struggling with the idea of leaving their home behind, they didn't need to know that their dad was struggling with it too.

  Maisie and Lola held hands and walked in front of me down the stairs, taking their time. Maisie used the opportunity to pepper me with all kinds of questions about Avery the whole way down.

  “Is she nice?” she asked.

  “She seems very nice,” I said.

  “Is she pretty?” she asked.

  Such an innocent question coming from her, I had to chuckle. Not that she could understand it, but thinking about how pretty Avery was, was about the last thing I needed to be doing.

  “She's very pretty,” I said.

  I spoke lower though, as if somehow admitting – out loud – that my potential new nanny was, in fact, very pretty, might betray the relationship I had with my wife. “Well, if she's nice and she's pretty, I think she's the one,” Maisie said matter-of-factly, as if those were the only two things that mattered in a nanny. “Don't you, Lola?”

  “I think there's more to it than just being nice and pretty,” I said, ruffling Lola's head.

  She never did answer her sister's question. We reached the bottom of the stairs and I led the girls into my office where I'd been conducting the interview. Avery stood as soon as the door opened, and her eyes positively lit up when she saw my little girls.

  “You must be Lola and Maisie,” she said.

  She walked toward us and kneeled down to be eye-level with the girls, the smile on her face reaching all the way up to her eyes, making them sparkle and glimmer with an inner light.

  “My name is Avery,” she said.

  “Avery is a pretty name,” Maisie said.

  “Thank you,” she said. “And you must be – Maisie?”

  “How did you know?” Maisie squealed, delighted that Avery knew who she was.

  “Lucky guess,” Avery laughed and then turned to Lola, who stared at her with wide, uncertain eyes. “And that makes you Lola.”

  Lola nodded, but said nothing in return.

  “It's nice to meet you, Lola,” she said.

  I interjected, just to stave off an awkward silence I felt was building. “Lola tends to be a little shy,” I said. “Maisie, on the other hand, will talk your ear off.”

  “Is that so?” Avery asked.

  Maisie rolled her eyes and looked up at me, her hands planted on her hips. “I like to talk. That’s how you make friends,” she said.

  Lola finally giggled, and she managed to say, “You do talk a lot.”

  Maisie shot her sister a look of disbelief and faux-outrage, but the two of them ended up giggling so much, I couldn't make out what Maisie said to her in return. My girls were laughing and happy, which meant the world to me. Even Avery seemed to join in on the smiles. There was suddenly a lighter feeling in the room, one of a blissful happiness or unfettered joy – something I hadn't felt in a long, long time.

  Staring down at the three of them, I could tell the girls were already comfortable with her. I had a good feeling about this. The agency I'd contacted had highly recommended her for the position and her references were perfect. My only concern about Avery was how she'd interact with my girls, and I could see there was obviously no problem there. Honestly, there really was no reason to not offer her the job.

  Especially since we were leaving for Paris in less than a week.

  “Girls, what do you think? Should we bring Avery along to Paris with us?” I asked.

  Maisie shouted, “Yes! We want Avery!”

  Even Lola spoke up, “Yes,” she said softly, her soft cheeks turning a bright shade of red.

  Avery stood up, her own cheeks flushed with color. She seemed surprised, but her smile stretched across her entire face. She was nearly in tears.

  “Does this mean you're offering me the job?” she asked.

  “The girls had their say, and I agree with them,” I said, feeling my own smile spread across my face. “So yes, Avery, if you'd like the job, it's yours.”

  “Oh wow, I honestly didn't expect to – but, of course I want it,” she said, her face turning even brighter red, her hands coming up to her mouth. She looked like she might cry. “You have no idea how excited I am for this opportunity, Mr. Sullivan. I promise I won't let you down. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

  “Please, call me Spencer,” I said with a smile. “And I'll be in touch with the travel arrangements shortly. We look forward to having you join our little family.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  AVERY

  All my life, I'd dreamt of traveling abroad. I wanted especially wanted to see Paris. As the oldest of five children, living with a single father who could hardly support all of us after my mother died, it seemed like a dream I might never achieve. Yet, there I was, preparing to board a private jet to Paris, and not just to visit – but to live. Better yet, I'd be getting paid for it as well.

  I had to resist the urge to pinch myself for the thousandth time. No, I was not dreaming. This was really happening.

  Spencer and the girls were waiting for me at the terminal. Maisie ran up to me the moment she saw me emerge from the crush of people, wrapping her arms around my waist. We'd spent a little more time together after I'd officially been hired, and already, the most social of the Sullivan girls was attached to me. Lola smiled, which was genuine, and I thought, a good sign from the shy, reserved girl. She stayed by her father's side, however, holding his hand. Her pink suitcase sat at her feet. Maisie's was purple and sat beside her father as the two of us walked over to them together, hand in hand.

  Spencer Sullivan smiled at me, and my insides tied themselves in knots. I'd heard about his chiseled jaw and sculpted abs in the tabloids – you really couldn't pick up a magazine or turn on the news without seeing Spencer Sullivan somewhere. But, until I'd seen him in real life, with my own two eyes, I'd had no real idea he was as gorgeous as he was.

  He was the cliché tall, dark and handsome man, with hair that was nearly black, and light gray eyes. He was one of the tallest men I'd ever met, and easily one of the most handsome too. His strong, well-defined jawline that was almost all angles, almost seemed contradictory to his downright kissably soft lips – and yet, he made it work. He made it work very well, in fact.

  Spencer was very nice on the eyes, and after seeing how good he was with his daughters, how much he doted on them – I felt like I could fall in love with him, even if he was about ten years older than I was. I always did have a thing for older, more established men though.

  My best friend, Veronica, often teased me about having a daddy complex because my own father had hardly been around when I was growing up. He worked too much, trying to support us, which left a lot of the child care to me. Roni said my fascination with older men was because I desired someone to take care of me for once, since I'd spent most of my life taking care of others.

  Maybe she was right. Or, maybe she was full of crap. I really didn't know.

  Roni would have given me the hell if she'd seen the way I looked at Spencer, though. That much I knew for sure. To be fair, I felt like a little girl in puppy love. I knew it was wrong, knew there was no way we could ever be together, but I still couldn't help the warmth – or the wetness – that grew inside of me every time I looked at him.

  “Good morning, Avery,” Spencer said, his lips pulling back to showcase a made-for-TV, perfectly white smile. “I hope you're ready for the big move?”

  “I am,” I said, my cheeks burning. “I've been ready ever since I was a little girl, to be honest. This is a dream come true for me.”

  His smile reached his eyes, and they sparkled for a fragment of a second. “I think you're real
ly going to enjoy it,” he said. “Paris is one of my favorite cities. It's absolutely stunning.”

  “I have no doubt I'm going to enjoy it,” I said.

  I've always found everything about France to be beautiful; the history, the language, the architecture – everything. It was why I'd studied French in college and made it my minor to my Education degree. I knew that it was the only way I’d be able to make a living with it. Now this opportunity had been thrust upon me, and I was truly going to live out my wildest dream. I could hardly quell the butterflies at play in my stomach. I followed Spencer and the girls out to the tarmac where the jet was waiting for us. Although they walked with the confidence of people who'd done it a thousand times, I felt a little awkward bypassing the terminal and heading straight out to where the planes were. It felt so exclusive, so fancy – and so not me.

  Spencer had stepped aside, letting me go first, and as I climbed up the steps to the plane, that's when it hit me. That was the moment when I realized that was going to be the last time I'd have my feet on United States soil for a while A wave of the surreal washed over me as it dawned on me, a strange feeling making my stomach churn. If all went well, I might not be back for a good, long while. As much as I would miss my family, my siblings were all grown and were enjoying their own lives now. It was time for me to finally live mine too.

  I was the first one to step foot on the plane, and I gasped. I'd only flown a couple of times, all domestic flights, and I remember being crammed in like a bunch of sardines. However, this was traveling in true luxury. With spacious leather seats that had enough room to lie completely flat, you had room to spread out – and you didn't have to fight over the armrest with anyone either. Each person had plenty of space to spread out and be comfortable. There was a total of eight seats, as far as I could tell, plus a mini bar set up on one side of the jet made of a dark, cherry wood finish.

  A petite blonde woman smiled as we boarded. She handed me a glass of champagne and a cloth napkin.