“I was actually hoping to come see Kaylee’s playgroup.”
I must make a face or something because he pauses.
“Not a good idea?”
“I think it would be good for you to see Kaylee interacting with the other kids, but I don’t know the mothers and other nannies well yet. I’m wondering how they’ll react to Ryder Kennedy crashing the class.”
“My guess is they’ll be fine with it. Probably too fine with it.”
“That’s what I mean. It might be a pain in the ass for you. And then they’ll know for sure who Kaylee belongs to.”
“If you think it’ll make things weird—”
“It won’t be weird for me. I’m worried for you after the play center thing.”
Kaylee looks at her father with the biggest puppy dog eyes I’ve ever seen on a human … or a dog for that matter. Holy shit, it would be impossible to say no to that face. “Please come, Daddy. I want you to meet my friends. I have friends!”
“I’d like to meet them,” Ryder says and then looks up at me. “If that’s okay.”
“I guess we’re about to find out just how cool everyone at playgroup is. Or isn’t.”
Hopefully they won’t react like that other playgroup mom did.
We get ready for the day, and Ryder watches as I prepare a plate of celery and carrot sticks to take.
“Healthy snacks only,” I tell him.
“Are you sure this is the right playgroup?”
“Hey, at least I only have to bring this. I think they took pity on me since I’m the only male in the group and gave me the easiest job. Also, the less sugar I feed your kid, the easier she is for you to deal with after I go home.”
“Oh. True.”
“Ready to go?” I ask.
Ryder turns to Kaylee. “Ready to go, bub?” When she runs toward the front door, a line forms in Ryder’s forehead. “She was never that excited to go to school.”
“She’s doing great.”
Ryder loses some tension in his stiff shoulders. “I still wonder if I made the right decision. I never know if I have when it comes to her.”
“Welcome to parenting. I remember my brother freaking out when Chase came along. Thought he wasn’t doing anything right.” I give him a reassuring smile. “All you have to do is see how excited she is to know you did the right thing. And I’m not just saying that because I have an actual paying job now and I want to keep it.”
“Good to know.”
Ryder lets me drive since I know where we’re going.
The whole way there, Kaylee is her normal chatty self.
“Will Wicker be there?”
“No reason he wouldn’t be,” I say and try to cover my laugh as Ryder gives me the side-eye.
He mouths, “Wicker?”
“How do cows fart?” Kaylee asks.
“The same way dogs fart,” I say simply.
Ryder looks horrified in the passenger seat.
“How do dogs fart?” Kaylee asks.
I don’t miss a beat. “The same way cats fart.”
“How do—”
Ryder turns around in his seat. “The same way every animal on the planet farts.”
It’s cute he thinks that means she’ll stop.
“How do aliens fart?”
There it is.
Ryder groans.
I answer like any sane person would. “We don’t even know if aliens have butts. If they don’t have butts, they can’t fart.”
“Can we stop talking about farting?” Ryder asks.
“I’m trying to educate your child,” I argue.
“On alien farts?”
“It’s important she learns about the entire universe. Be thankful we haven’t gotten onto Uranus yet.”
Ryder levels me with a look. “It’s pronounced Ura-ness.”
“I like the other way better. More fun.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ryder shift in his seat.
“Why are elbows called elbows?” Kaylee asks.
Ryder throws his head back and mutters, “Holy mother of Jesus, are we almost there?”
“Almost,” I sing.
I pull into the parking lot of the playground we’re meeting at today and find a parking space near the entry.
Kaylee clicks herself out of her booster seat and moves like lightning to get out of the car and run across the field to where a group of women crowd around picnic tables.
“And she’s gone,” Ryder says as we climb out to follow her.
“Yeah. I’ve been trying to get her not to do that, but she gets too excited and doesn’t think. She definitely keeps me on my toes.”
“You and me both.”
We watch as Kaylee runs off with two other children to climb the jungle gym.
“So, who’s this Wicker kid, and how judgy are we over that name?”
“Hey, just because you refuse to conform to celebrity norms and name your child something weird doesn’t mean you get to judge others.”
Ryder narrows his gaze at me.
I laugh. “I’m fucking with you. We judge very much. But he’s a good kid. The mom is your typical gluten-free, sugar-free, all organic type of mom.”
“Ah.”
We move toward the table where the moms and other nannies are sitting and watching the kids play.
Ryder adjusts his cap, and I can tell he’s holding his breath as we reach them.
I put the plate of celery and carrot sticks in the middle of other snacks. “Hey, everyone, this is Kaylee’s dad—”
It starts with a gasp. And then another.
And now all eyes are on him.
I’m sure he’s used to this, but I wonder if it ever gets any easier.
“Hey, I’m Ryder.”
They stare blankly at him.
“If you’re pausing for me to say my last name, I won’t.”
I get what he means. Thinking of Ryder as just Ryder has been an adjustment. It’s hard not to add Kennedy to the end.
“He’s only Ryder. Nothin’ special.” I shrug.
Ryder tilts his head in my direction. “Really? That’s what you’re going with?”
I turn to the group. “If you tell him his music is bad, he’ll give you a job.”
Kathy widens her eyes at me. “Lyric Jones, please tell me you didn’t do that?”
“I soooo did, but it worked out for me.”
“What can I say? There’s something about Lyric’s bluntness I like.”
Kathy nods. “He does have a certain way of charming us all, which is why he gets away with bringing the easiest share platter.”
I grin. “I’m unapologetically me.”
The mom I told Ryder about approaches him. “I’m Ria, Wicker’s mom.”
Ryder glances at me over her head with a knowing smirk. “Nice to meet you.”
“Welcome to playgroup.”
“I was under the impression playgroup was more like a classroom thing.”
“Oh, we have classroom days too,” I say.
“We’re what we like to call a pop-up playgroup,” Ria says, “so each day we do something different. You came on a fun day where the kids get to play and us single parents get a break.”