Chapter Ten

Jonah

Whoever said that parenting got easier forgot the big “not” at the end of that statement. Jonah would take a sleepless night of feedings over one more day of potty training.

Waverly had awoken to a wet bed, Ryan still wasn’t talking to him, and Jonah had accidentally smeared grape jelly on the sleeve of his suit. Then there was his schedule that had flipped him the resounding bird.

He was expected at Grinder in thirty minutes to meet his old boss about a possible job opportunity, Waverly had refused to wear anything but her mermaid costume, Ryan left the interior light on in his car so the engine wouldn’t start, meaning Jonah had to beg Evie to handle carpool on her morning off, and he still couldn’t stop thinking about her proposal. A proposal that was as ridiculous as the amount of time he’d spent weighing the pros and cons.

He’d trade in his left testicle for another adult to help him navigate the morning. Maybe both if that person also doubled as a toddler whisperer because Waverly wasn’t just refusing to wear shoes—because what do mermaids need with shoes—she was also clinging to his leg like a defiant little koala. Then there was the preschool teacher who was blocking his entrance into the classroom.

“What do you mean she has to be completely potty trained?” Jonah asked. “Since when?”

“Since she took off her diaper and did a finger painting on the wall of the dress-up room,” the teacher said.

“Her mom was an artist. It runs in the family.”

“I’m really sorry,” she said.

“When I got the potty-training policy notice, I thought I’d get more time than a single week.” He looked at his watch and realized he was late. A month ago, he would’ve blown off the meeting, but something inside of him had changed. Maybe it was the momentum of the to-do lists. He definitely wasn’t trying to prove he didn’t need organization. But damn if it didn’t feel good to try again. And he wanted to hold onto that feeling. “Look, I get it, you have rules, but I promise you we’re working on it. Can you make an exception this one time?”

“If it were up to me, I would,” she said with genuine apology—and a hint of blatant interest—in her eyes. “But it’s completely out of my hands. I’m just a parent volunteer.”

Jonah gripped the back of his neck. He didn’t need to go in today. But he knew his old boss was always in the best mood on Monday morning, the earlier the better, relaxed from his long Sunday golfing. As the day wore on, Frank’s mood would get worse. Getting him early increased the chances of him listening to the reasons why he should hire his top earner back, even if Jonah hadn’t worked in two years. Every cell in Jonah’s body was telling him that he needed to make this meeting. If he did, he could finally afford to hire someone who knew how to prune a pomegranate tree right. It was time he took the next step.

“Who do I need to talk to?”

“Unfortunately, Ms. Hathaway, and she was part of the splatter mural, so I don’t think she’ll be as easy to convince.”

“Ms. Hathaway was the one who told me to use underwear instead of pullups, since it confuses them. So I used underwear.”

“That explains why she wet her panties three days in a row.”

“So I should go back to pullups?”

“You should potty train her. If you want…” She hesitated, and her cheeks turned pink. “I’d be willing to walk you through it. Maybe over coffee?” Her eyes lingered on his mouth. She was cute in a soccer-mom kind of way with pretty brown eyes, lush lips, and couldn’t be more obvious than if she’d tattooed her number to his forehead, but all Jonah felt was the urgent need to shut things down.

Just like the other day, a woman who probably had a PhD in Potty Training had offered her help to clean up his world. Unlike the other day, he wasn’t interested.

“Thanks, but I think I can get a handle on it.”

She handed him a paper. “My number, in case you change your mind.”

“Thanks, and have a good one,” he said, walking away and wondering what the hell he was doing. He clearly needed help in the parenting department if he had any chance of impressing Ms. Hathaway, but the thought of a beautiful woman walking in his and Amber’s house, knowing it was more than an offer for nannying, made his gut churn.

At least the thought of this woman. Which was a firm reminder of why Evie’s fake dating scheme would never work.

…

“I swear she’s a sweetheart and quiet. So quiet, she’ll probably sit in the corner and read her book the whole time I’m in there,” Jonah said to the receptionist.

Stacy, as the nametag proclaimed, eyeballed Waverly, who was staring up at her with the smile of an angel and gave two innocent blinks of those long lashes. Her mother’s lashes. God, if Amber could see him now. Nearly broke, two years unemployed, his life a disaster, begging his old boss, Frank Rochester, for his job back while using their daughter as arm candy to get in good with the receptionist.

“He’s really busy this morning, Jonah. Like really busy. He has zero fuc—” Stacy looked at Wavery, who was looking back with excited wide eyes, waiting for her to finish the dirty word. Sorry, she mouthed.

Jonah waved a dismissive hand.

“Her brother is seventeen. She’s heard it all.”

Stacy did not look impressed at his parenting skills. He did not give a fuck. Not today. Today Jonah had to get into Frank’s office and convince him how instrumental Jonah could be to their success. How he could take them to the next level. Problem was, Frank hated kids, hated parents more. Thought they took the focus off work and misplaced it on other things like family and having a balanced life.

Jonah had to prove to him that he could do it all. Right after he proved it to himself.

Fake it till you make it, buddy.

“Seriously, today is not the day to go in there. The last guy came out crying.”

“You know Frank, he loves me.”

“Loved. Past tense. You left and he sent out a memo that you were dead to him.”

“My wife had terminal cancer.”

“The memo also said that was a you problem.”

Jesus, was he really this desperate? He looked down at his daughter, thought of the bills stacking up, the bank balance, the impending fine, and felt dizzy. Unless he got a job ASAP, he’d have to break into Amber’s life insurance settlement and that money was for the kids’ college and wedding funds. Something that was not happening. So yes, he was that desperate.

“Five minutes with Frank. You watch Waverly and I pay you a hundred bucks. In return, I give you a free hour of my time to talk about your investment portfolio. And you know what an hour of my time is worth.”

“If it’s worth so much, why are you here?”

Because he hadn’t heard back from a single company he’d reached out to. No one wanted to take a chance on a new hire with an unexplained resume gap, especially at the stage he’d been at. Other brokers probably thought he was crazy to quit his job months before a big promotion, or thought something must have gone really downhill. He didn’t regret quitting. But trying to find a job after two years of being a stay-at-home parent was no joke. It made him really empathize with moms trying to get back into the workforce after sacrificing their careers to raise their kids.

“This is the best firm and I know if Frank gives me the chance I can prove myself and get back to handling eight-figure accounts again in six months.”

“Two hours.”

“Deal.”

“But I’m not babysitting. She has to entertain herself.”

“She is an angel, I swear.” He was going to hell for that lie. Or maybe his baby could hold on for five minutes. And maybe the Beautification Board would give him an additional six weeks.

Jonah took Waverly by her chubby little hand and his heart burst with light and love so bright it nearly blinded him for a moment. Was he really going to do this? Was he really going to hire a nanny and let someone else raise his kid while he pulled eighty-hour weeks?

Just the thought of it brought on an acute case of heartburn. Or maybe it was heartbreak. Old-fashioned heartbreak. Either way, it knocked the wind out of him.

He went down on his haunches and looked Waverly in the eyes. “Daddy is going to walk through that door for just five minutes. Until that big hand is on the five, then I will be back. And because you’ve been such a good girl, I’ll let you play Purrfect Pet Shop on my phone. And that’s Stacy. She’s going to be there if you need anything.”

“You mean if there is an emergency.”

Jonah shot Stacy a death glare. “If you need anything because you’re three, and three-year-olds need adults sometimes to feel safe. And this is a safe place, right Stacy?”

Stacy rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

Jonah was rethinking this whole thing. “You know what? Never mind.”

“I got her.” Stacy stood up and walked around the desk and sat next to Waverly. “Go. Before I change my mind.”

“You’re a lifesaver.”

“And you owe me three hours.”

Jonah didn’t have time to argue. He strolled straight into Frank’s office, never slowing down as he pushed through the door.

Frank was as big as ever, his spare tire hanging over the pleats of his slacks. The buttons held on for dear life as he swung the golf club back and swung forward with intention, sending the ball sailing into the air on the simulator. Even though it was a perfect swing, the ball veered left.

Maybe slamming open the door hadn’t been the smartest decision because Frank flung the nine iron and let out a long string of words even Ryan and his friends hadn’t learned yet.

“I told you no one was to fucking disturb me while I was fucking working.” He spun around, expecting to see Stacy, and came to a dead stop when it was, in fact, not Stacy.

“Out!” he roared. “Get the fuck out of my fucking office. I told you to never fucking come back.”

“Actually, you told me to get back to my fucking desk and get back to fucking work,” Jonah quoted verbatim. “I’m ready to do that now, sir.”

One could never tell how Frank was going to react, so when he burst out laughing and walked over to give Jonah a hug, Jonah felt his lungs exhale. There was a fifty-fifty chance of how this would turn out and it had spun in Jonah’s favor.

He looked down at his loafers and breathed in the canistered air and oxford-white painted walls and wondered if it had. Or if this was like returning to hell. He didn’t really like who he was now, but looking back he hated who he’d been then.

“How the hell have you been?” Frank gave Jonah a slap on the shoulder. “Still up to your elbows in dishwater and dirty diapers?”

“I have a nanny for that now.”

“About time you saw the light. Never met a nanny who couldn’t do a better job at raising kids than their parents. Just look at my five. All nanny raised. All turned out just fine.”

One was an addict. One was on trial for insider trading. The youngest lived on his dad’s yacht, and the other two worked for Frank. And his wife didn’t work. She just didn’t want to get elbow deep in dirty diapers. Or things like parenting and emotions.

“So about the job?” Jonah prodded, knowing he’d promised his daughter he’d be back in five minutes.

“I’ve been meaning to fire Henry. Father of new twins. You can have his office.”

“You can’t fire him because he’s a new dad.”

“You want the job or not, son?”

Did he want it at the expense of someone else? Hell no. But did he want a big fat paycheck in his account? Desperately. And he knew that Rochester, Lemon, and Links was the only firm in town that would trust him with large accounts. And it wasn’t like they would keep Henry even if he declined the job. But taking the job was wrong…right?

Shit. His moral compass was all over the place. Desperation could do that to a man. There were other jobs, he decided, ones that didn’t require taking some poor new dad’s desk. It would likely be closer to an entry-level job, working on smaller accounts until he could prove himself. But would it make enough to cover the mounting bills?

He was wading through the giant pool of Frank-sized shit—how had he forgotten about this—when he felt a little sweaty palm slide into his.

“What the hell is that?” Frank bellowed as if he’d just seen a seven-foot-tall cockroach.

“Da-da, I went poopoo,” Waverly said.

Jonah looked Frank in the eyes. They were bulging, bloodshot with rage. There was even spittle in the corner of his mouth.

“I almost did, too, honey. Daddy almost did, too.”