Page 31 of DadBod

Oh, holy night. This is good; I’m pretty sure angels are singing about it. With my mouth partially full, I say, “So, so, so good.”

Something amazing happens. Rome smiles. A real one. With teeth and everything. It makes me do the same. But, as soon as I show my teeth, his smile falls, and a look of utter seriousness falls over him.

I quickly close my mouth. “What?” I wonder. “Do I have cheese on my teeth?” Or worse, did he lose his appetite at the sight of my big, gappy smile?

“Nothing.” He clears his throat. “I’m glad you like it.”

I watch as Rome takes a bite of his pasta too, nodding as he chews. “Good,” he agrees.

“Duh.” I take another bite and another. Finally, I decide to try the salad. He did go to the trouble of making it. It’s delicious too.

When we’re finished, I offer to clean up the kitchen, but he waves me off, saying, “I’ve got some tiramisu cake if you’d like dessert.”

“I’m stuffed.” That’s no lie. “But thank you.”

We chitchat as he cleans. When he pulls out a plastic container and fills it with the leftovers, I hold my breath. When he slides the dish in front of me, he says, “Take that home.”

I nod because I’m sort of speechless.

“Now, let me show you the house. After that, we’ll sit down and talk about my proposal.”

Proposal?

Oh, right.

The nanny gig.

“Sure.” I nod because I have to do something; I can’t let that word, proposal, roll around on repeat in my brain.

Rome heads downstairs first. It’s the floor that houses the garage, but there’s also a family room off that space with a large sectional sofa and a big-screen television on a long brick wall. Game devices are sitting abandoned on the coffee table. “This is Calvin’s zone.” He smirks. “He loves his video games.”

“Most boys, kids, that age love them.” At least that’s what people say. I’m definitely no expert on children. Which is why this is strange in the first place. Why would he want me for this job and not a professional? But I’m going to hear him out.

On the floor above the main one is the master bedroom, a huge bathroom, and an impressive office with dark built-in cabinetry. The walls are painted a warm gray color, which makes it feel masculine. This room feels more like Rome’s space.

On the next level are two more spacious bedrooms. One of them is Calvin’s, while the other, Rome tells me, is a guest bedroom. Calvin’s room is decorated in blues and reds with Chicago Cubs paraphernalia on the walls and bed. “Cubs fan,” Rome says with a smile.

“Go Sox,” I say with a giggle.

“Hold your tongue.”

It makes me laugh more. “I live on the southside. I’ve gotta stand by my team.” I snicker, “I’m actually a hockey fan.”

“Me too.”

“Go Redwings.”

“No, Elizabeth,” Rome groans. “Are you for real?”

I shrug. “I’m not from here.”

“Michigan?”

I nod. “Yep. Born and raised.”

“Fine.” Rome sighs as he is about to head up yet another set of stairs. “Please do not tell me you’re a Lions fan too.”

“Okay.” I shrug. “I won’t tell you.”