After all, Gert had left him, then rebuffed his many attempts to work it out. After two weeks of frantic calls, e-mails, and texts, Gert still refused to answer, and Freddie began to feel like a stalker. She had even sent him a text that read <<Stop it. U & I r over 4 now>>. Rover? They were rover? Then he realized she meant “you and I are over.” He had refused to believe it and had texted a <3 back.
Radio silence from Gert again.
<<B that way!>> he punched in his phone after three days of self-control, deciding it would be his very last text to her. He couldn’t quite believe how immature they were being. He was “rover” it as well.
He wasn’t the type to cheat—okay, okay—he did have a bit of a wandering eye, but he had tried, hadn’t he? He had tried to make the marriage work—but Gert had left him. What was he supposed to do? Be alone? He had been alone for five thousand years!
Kristy had a pretty face and was fond of showing off her cle**age squeezed inside a low-cut tank—which had immediately caught Freddie’s attention. She had resisted his charms at first, which only made Freddie want her more desperately. She was thirty-six, she told him, while he was barely drinking age, let alone prepared to be with a woman who had two kids. “I’m, like, fifteen years older than you, Freddie.” He hadn’t the heart to tell her he was actually thousands of years older.
Plus, he was definitely not her type, she added emphatically.
“But I’m everyone’s type,” he had argued. He tried to settle for their playful, friendly banter as they slung drinks behind the bar. Most of the time she humored him. She was steadfast in her rejection, which made her even more appealing.
One evening in the basement ice room, he slipped his arms around her slim waist. She said, “Listen, you’re cute and all, Freddie, but I can’t. I have kids. Maxim and Hannah. I don’t do one-nighters, and we work together, love.” He let her go and apologized for being so forward.
Then they began making out. It was Valentine’s Day, after all.
“Love?” he teased when their lips parted.
So here he was, dating a single mom with two kids. He tried not to think of Gert and he liked Kristy. She was beautiful, cool, and no-nonsense. She had a heart-shaped face, bee-stung lips that felt plush and tasted sweet when he kissed her. Their lovemaking was good but hurried and frantic, which he supposed was to be expected when there were two kids lurking about.
He swung an arm out toward her, wiggling his fingers, beckoning for her to get back in bed.
She walked to the closet, then glimpsed over a shoulder, grinning. “I can’t! I’m running late.” She took a dress off its hanger and threw it on. It clung nicely to her frame, not too tightly, just right.
Freddie rubbed his eyes, sitting up. “What time is it?” He grabbed his phone by the bed to answer his own question just as Kristy’s cell gave a little catcall whistle. It was six A.M.
“Well, that’s a monkey wrench!” Kristy said, glancing at her cell’s screen.
“What do you mean, you’ve got to get out of here?”
She tilted her head, appearing distracted. “You know, my daytime job. The place I usually go most days. But listen, I need a favor.”
Freddie lifted his eyebrows and scooted over on the bed, glancing down at the empty spot. He wasn’t giving up.
Kristy ignored the signal. “The babysitter called in sick last night, and now their dad, who had promised to take them for the day, just texted that he can’t. I need you to take care of them. You know, just for the day. Max has Little League practice and Hannah ballet.” She threw his clothes at him and smiled sweetly. “Come on, babe? They’re good kids, right? And you have nothing to do all day until you have to work tonight.”
Freddie sighed. They were good kids.
She kissed him. “Thanks, love!”
He rose and began to dress.
“Don’t worry, it’s easy. I’ll write down instructions, and you can use my car. I’ll take the Vespa. You just have to drop them off and pick them up on time. Make sure they eat. Good food, not junk.” She stopped talking and smiled, then came over and leaned in to give him another appreciative kiss. “They really like you, Freddie. Oh, and Max is a vegetarian. But Hannah isn’t. Try to remember.”
“Okay,” said Freddie.
Just then, on cue, Kristy’s seven-year-old, Hannah, began wailing in the house.
“Quick!” said Kristy, motioning to the sliding glass doors. “Go! Come back and say you’re their babysitter for today. You are officially the new manny.”
“Manny?” Freddie echoed, grabbing his Chuck Taylors and slipping out. Outside in the cold, he put on his shoes, shivering. The kids normally knew him as “Mommy’s friend.” He would pretend to leave when he came over, only to sneak back in through the sliding glass doors.
He heard Kristy’s little girl come into the bedroom. “Mommy, Mommy, Max hid Floppy. I can’t find him! He says Floppy is stinky and that I’m too old for him.”
Freddie knocked on the glass.
“Oh, look at that!” said Kristy. “Freddie is already here! He’s your new babysitter. He must have come up from the beach. He’ll help you find Floppy.” She slid the door open, and Freddie entered, smiling sheepishly.
Hannah clung to her mother’s leg, looking up at Freddie with huge, wet pleading eyes.
Kristy ran a hand over the little girl’s fine, scraggly light brown hair. She was a tiny slip of a thing. “Floppy,” she echoed. The little girl stared at Freddie as she cried and hiccupped, and her little chin trembled before she let out another whimper and hiccupped again.
Kristy’s son, Max, tore into the room, canonballing onto the bed. “Hey, tiger,” Freddie said. Wasn’t that what you were supposed to call little boys? Either that or “champ.” “Tiger” suited him better—Max was a terror.
“What’s he doing here already?” Max was kneeling, fists on the mattress, his shiny brown hair, like his mother’s, going every which way. His face was tan, cheeks rosy, and his button of a nose sunburned at the tip. He wore round blue-framed glasses that made his brown eyes look even larger.
Freddie mussed his hair. “You’re stuck with me for the day, tiger.”
“Don’t call him that, his name is Max,” said Hannah, still clinging to her mother’s leg as she walked about the room, both of her feet balanced on one of her mom’s. Kristy gathered her purse and keys. “Kids, please be nice to Freddie today, okay?”