Chapter 8
If you had told Charlie two months ago that he'd develop a massive crush on his son's teacher--and that the universe would throw him a bone by making it seem like said teacher was interested in him too-Charlie would have laughed in your face.
No, scratch that. He wouldn't just laugh. He'd probably spit out whatever drink he was holding at the time, possibly choke a little, and then laugh even harder. Because that kind of ews? That kind of absurd, wildly optimistic, fairy tale news? That just doesn't happen to Charlie Spring.
Charlie doesn't get good luck. He doesn't get easy wins. The universe, for most of his life, has been more about piling on chaos and hard lessons than delivering him anything close to a romantic comedy setup.
But here he is.
Here he is, a single dad with a messy past, who's somehow developed the hots for his son's teacher-a teacher who just so happens to be nice, thoughtful, gorgeous, and bisexual.
Charlie shakes his head, a disbelieving laugh escaping him as the thought settles in. "What even is my life?" he mutters to himself, running a hand through his curls.
Because somehow, the impossible is happening. And as much as he doesn't want to jinx it, a small, hopeful part of him can't help but wonder: What if this time, the universe is actually on my side?
Unfortunately for Charlie, he might have let himself get his hopes up a little too quickly.
Because as he settles Remy into his car seat and climbs into the driver’s seat, feeling a bit lighter after the morning’s events, Remy drops a bomb that immediately sends his stomach plummeting.
“Daddy,” Remy starts, swinging his legs happily and fiddling with the straps of his seatbelt, “I think Mr. Nick has a, um… girl? A friend?? Or a princess? I don’t know. What word is that???”
Charlie’s hands tighten on the steering wheel as he pulls out of the parking lot. He glances at his son in the rearview mirror, trying to keep his tone calm and casual. “A girlfriend?”
“Yeah!” Remy chirps, completely oblivious to the weight of his words. “Her name’s Immy! She’s a teacher there too! They were talking a looooottt at recess. She’s really nice, and she gave me a sticker once and we play dinos! They laughing and talking a lot a lot, and I think she dinner.”
Charlie swallows hard, his chest tightening. A girlfriend?
His mind immediately spirals. Sure, Immy’s probably just a coworker, but… dinner? It doesn’t sound just professional, it could be, but dinner with coworkers just doesn't seem like something Nick would spend this free time doing. Charlie can’t help but feel the sting of disappointment.
“Well,” Charlie says after a pause, keeping his voice as neutral as possible, “Lots of people have friends they laugh with. And go to dinner with."
Remy tilts his head, his brow furrowing as if considering this. “Mayybeeee,” he says finally, though he doesn’t sound convinced. “But Daddy, if she’s not his princess, I think you should be his prince! That’d be cool, right? Then we could all hang out and have donuts all the time!”
Charlie nearly chokes, a mix of laughter and exasperation bubbling out of him. “Remy, I think that’s enough matchmaking for one day,” he says, trying to focus on the road as his cheeks flush.
“Matchmaking?? Mhmm don't know what that is. But, Okie dokie." Remy says cheerfully, leaning back in his seat. “But I’m just saying, you a great prince, Daddy.”
Charlie shakes his head, his lips twitching into a small, reluctant smile despite the lingering unease in his chest. He can't stop himself from the thoughts consuming him all the drive home, that he probably misinterpreted Nicks kindness as flirting. Great.
Charlie clears his throat, trying to shift the conversation. “So, bud,” he asks, glancing back at Remy in the rearview mirror, “did you make any friends today?”
Remy scrunches up his nose, swinging his legs a little. “Mmm… no. Nope!.”
“No?” Charlie asks, keeping his tone light.
Remy shrugs. “no, no, no. They okay, I guess. Like, in the classroom they nice ‘cause Mr. Nick’s there. But at recess? Or playtime? I just wanna be by me.”
“Yeah?” Charlie asks, glancing back again. “Why’s that?”
Remy huffs, crossing his little arms. “They’re too loud, Daddy! And they don’t like dinos. At all! Like, they don’t even know any cool dino names! Like… like… like a T-Rex! How do you not know a T-Rex?”
Charlie bites back a chuckle. “That’s a good point. Everyone should know a T-Rex.”
“Yeah!” Remy says, nodding seriously. “And, like, I make the best dino stories, Daddy. But other kids mess ‘em up. So, I just do it by myself. It’s better because it's me.”
Charlie glances at Remy in the rearview mirror, trying to keep the conversation going. “Yeah, bud, I get it. But don’t you ever get lonely?”
Remy shakes his head, his little voice confident. “Nope. ‘Cause if I get sad, Mr. Nick’s there. Or Immy. So, I’m happy. Even by myself.”
Charlie raises an eyebrow, smiling slightly. “Okay, bud. But if this keeps up, we might have to work on making some friends your age. What happens if Mr. Nelson gets sick?”
There’s a dramatic gasp from the backseat. “Why would Mr. Nick get sick? Is he dying?! Daddy?!?!" The tears start to come and Charlie instantly feels guilty, right, kids are more emotional.
Charlie’s eyes widen, and he quickly shakes his head. “No, no, no! He’s not dying! I just mean, like, what if he had a cold or something and had to stay home for a day? Then another teacher would have to be there, and you wouldn’t get to talk to Mr. Nick. That would be sad, wouldn’t it? And maybe a little lonely?”
Remy scrunches up his nose, clearly thinking it over, wiping at his face. “Hmm… yeah, yeah. But why would he get sick? Mr. Nick’s, like, super strong. He’s not gonna get sick, Daddy.”
Charlie chuckles softly, shaking his head. “I’m sure he’s super strong, bud, but everybody gets sick sometimes. That’s why it’s good to have other friends too, just in case.”
Charlie is very aware of Mr. Nick being strong if those biceps have anything to say about it. Dear Lord, what he'd do to have those biceps on either side of his head while they -
Stop. There's a child in the car.
Remy tilts his head, looking out the window. “Okay… but only if they like dinos. If they don’t, they’re boringgggg.”
Charlie laughs. “Fair enough, kiddo. Fair enough.”
As soon as they step inside the house, Charlie notices something is off. Remy’s unusually quiet, and his little face is scrunched up in thought. Charlie barely has time to set his keys on the counter before it happens—tears start welling up in Remy’s eyes, and within moments, he’s sobbing uncontrollably.
“I don’t want Nicky to get sick!” Remy wails, his voice cracking as he stomps his little feet. “Getting sick means dying! I don’t like that! Why is Nick dying?”
Charlie freezes for a moment, caught off guard. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, bud,” he says, quickly crouching down to Remy’s level. “What are you talking about? Nick isn’t dying, sweetheart.”
But Remy shakes his head furiously, tears streaming down his face. “Yes, he is! You said he might get sick! Getting sick is bad! Sick means dying! I don’t want him to die!”
Charlie pulls Remy into his arms, gently rubbing his back. “No, no, baby, I didn’t mean it like that. Nick isn’t dying, I promise. He’s young and healthy, and he’s going to be just fine.”
Remy pulls back just enough to look up at Charlie with big, teary eyes, his lip trembling. “But you said sick! Fish get sick and then they die! You remember Nemo?”
Charlie lets out a soft, exasperated laugh, brushing a curl out of Remy’s face. “Oh, buddy, yes, I remember Nemo. But Nick isn’t a fish.”
“Nemo got sick, and then he died!” Remy cries, his little fists clenching as fresh tears spill over.
Charlie sighs, his heart aching a little at the memory of their one and only pet fish, a little orange clownfish that Remy had insisted on naming Nemo. They’d gotten him when Remy was three, a spur-of-the-moment decision during a trip to the pet store. For weeks, Remy had adored Nemo, watching him swim in circles, feeding him tiny flakes, and even talking to him when he thought Charlie wasn’t looking.
But one morning, Charlie had found Nemo floating at the top of the tank, unmoving. He’d panicked, wondering how on earth he was going to explain this to his then-three-year-old son. When Remy had seen the empty tank later that day, Charlie had done his best to console him, explaining gently that sometimes fish get sick and don’t get better.
It had been a hard lesson for such a young kid, and clearly, it had stuck.
“Sweetheart,” Charlie says now, cupping Remy’s tear-streaked face in his hands. “Nick isn’t like Nemo. He’s not a fish, okay? People get sick sometimes, but they usually get better. Remember when you had a cold last month? You were sick, but you didn’t die, did you?”
Remy sniffles, his brow furrowing. “Yeah… but what if Nick gets super sick? Like Nemo did?”
Charlie shakes his head, pressing a kiss to Remy’s forehead. “Nick is really strong, bud. He takes care of himself, and he’ll be fine. And if he ever does get sick, he’ll rest, take medicine, and get better. Just like you do when you’re sick.”
“But what if he doesn’t?” Remy whispers, clinging to Charlie’s sweater.
“Hey,” Charlie says gently, rocking him a little. “I promise you, Nick’s going to be okay. You don’t have to worry, bud. I’d never let anything bad happen to Mr. Nick.”
But Remy doesn’t see Charlie’s words as enough. He pulls back slightly, his face scrunched up in worry, tears still glistening in his big eyes. “But… but I don’t want to go to school tomorrow,” he says, his voice trembling. “And if Mr. Nick’s not there, I know that means he’s dying!”
Charlie sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “Remy, sweetheart, I don’t know what you want me to do.”
“You gotta do something!” Remy insists, his little fists clenching his sweater. “I can’t—I can’t lose my best friend, Daddy!”
Charlie’s heart twists at the sheer desperation in his son’s voice. He crouches down again, holding Remy’s shoulders gently. “Okay, okay,” he says, thinking quickly. “How about this: I’ll call him. If I call him, and you hear his voice, you’ll know he’s okay, right? You’ll know he’s not sick, not hurt, and definitely not dying. Would that make you feel better?”
Remy sniffles, his expression softening just a little as he considers it. “You’ll really call him?”
“I’ll really call him,” Charlie promises, brushing a stray tear from Remy’s cheek. “Just to make sure he’s okay.”
Remy nods, his lip still quivering but his voice a little steadier now. “Okay… yeah. Call him. I wanna hear.”
Charlie exhales in relief, pulling his phone from his pocket as Remy sits cross-legged on the couch, watching him intently. With a deep breath, Charlie dials Nick’s number and waits, his heart racing a little as the phone rings.
When Nick picks up, his warm voice immediately filters through the speaker. “Hey, Charlie. Everything okay?”
Charlie glances at Remy, who’s leaning forward, his eyes wide. “Hey, Nick. Yeah, um… everything’s fine, but Remy wanted to talk to you. He’s been a little worried about you.”
There’s a pause before Nick chuckles softly. “Worried about me? Why’s that?”
Charlie hands the phone to Remy, who grabs it eagerly. “Mr. Nick!” he says, his voice still a little wobbly. “Are you sick? Are you dying?”
Charlie can almost picture the confusion on Nick’s face as Remy’s frantic confession spills out. There’s a pause on the other end of the line before Nick’s warm, slightly perplexed voice comes through.
“Um, no, I’m not dying, Remy,” Nick says carefully. “Why would you think that, bud?”
Remy huffs, his little fists clenching his sweater. “Well, because Daddy said that people get sick sometimes. And if you’re sick, that means I’m alone at school. And if I’m alone at school, I’ll be sad. And Daddy said I should make more friends besides just you, but you’re my best friend, and so you need to promise you don’t get sick or die, right? You’re not sick?”
Nick lets out a soft laugh, his tone gentle. “No, Remy, I’m not sick. I’m perfectly well, I promise.”
Remy furrows his brow, his lip still quivering. “Um… I don’t know if I trust that,” he says suspiciously.
Charlie can’t help but smile a little at the way Nick handles the situation. “Well, Remy,” Nick says, his voice warm and reassuring, “you can hear my voice, right?”
“Yeah,” Remy says hesitantly.
“Okay,” Nick continues. “Do I sound sick to you?”
Remy tilts his head, clearly thinking it over. “No… but I don’t see you. How do I know you’re not sick?”
Charlie hides a chuckle behind his hand, marveling at the sheer determination in his son’s voice.
Nick, ever patient, says, “Hmm, I guess that’s true. But if I was sick, I’d probably sound funny, right? Like if I had a cold, my voice would be all stuffy.”
“Yeah…” Remy says slowly, still unsure.
“And I wouldn’t be able to talk to you like this if I felt bad, right?” Nick adds.
Remy thinks for a moment before finally nodding. “Okay… but you better not get sick! You gotta promise.”
Nick laughs softly, and Charlie can hear the smile in his voice. “I promise, buddy. I’ll do my best to stay strong and healthy. Deal?”
“Deal,” Remy says, his voice a little lighter now. “But you still gotta eat soup. Soup makes you strong.”
Nick chuckles again. “You’ve got it. Soup every day. Just for you.”
Remy finally cracks a small smile, cuddling into Charlie’s side as he hands the phone back. “Okay. I guess I trust you.”
Charlie leans down, gently brushing his fingers through Remy’s hair as he whispers softly, “Hey, bud, why don’t you go play with your toys for a little bit, okay? I’ll finish talking to Mr. Nick.”
Remy sniffles but nods, sliding off the couch and grabbing his favorite toy from the nearby pile before plopping down on the rug.
Charlie straightens, taking the phone back and bringing it to his ear. “Hey, Nick, I’m so sorry about that,” he says, his voice low and a little rushed. “One minute we were fine in the car, and then the second we got home he just… freaked. It’s my fault—I shouldn’t have said anything. I just…”
He exhales sharply, running a hand through his curls. “I just wish he’d make more friends, you know? I know how hard school can be when you feel like you’re on your own. And I just—ugh, sorry, I’m rambling.”
Taking a breath, he says, “I still feel bad. I mean, this is the first time I’ve ever called you, and it’s… because of this.”
On the other end, Nick’s warm chuckle makes Charlie’s stomach flip. “Charlie, it’s fine. Seriously. I’m not a parent, but I’ve been around enough upset kids to know that even the smallest thing can set them off. It’s not your fault. It happens.”
Charlie sighs, leaning against the counter. “Yeah, but… I just feel bad. Like, this is the first time I’ve reached out, and it’s because my kid is having a meltdown about you potentially getting sick.” He runs a hand through his curls, his voice a little quieter. “It just feels… I don’t know. Silly. And it’s not fair to you.”
Nick pauses for a moment before his voice comes through, softer but tinged with amusement. “Would you rather be calling me for another reason?”
The question catches Charlie off guard, and his heart skips a beat. “I mean…” He clears his throat, trying to steady himself. “We’re friends. It’d be… weird to call you for… you know, other reasons.”
There’s a beat, and then Nick speaks again, his tone lighter, teasing. “Weird? Charlie, I’d love it if you called me more.”
Charlie freezes, his brain stalling. “Wait, what?”
Nick’s laugh filters through the receiver, and Charlie can practically feel the grin in his voice. “Charlie,” Nick says, his voice dropping just a little, “I’m trying to flirt with you here.”
Charlie’s breath catches, his grip on the phone tightening as his cheeks flush bright red. “Flirt?” he repeats, his voice cracking slightly. “With me?”
“Yes, you,” Nick says, his tone gentle but amused. “Why do you sound so surprised?”
Charlie sputters, the words tumbling out in a rush. “Because—why—why would you want to flirt with me? I mean, I’m just—this is—I don’t—”
Nick’s laugh is soft and patient, and it does nothing to calm Charlie’s racing heart. “Charlie,” he says, interrupting the spiral, “I’m not going to spell it out over the phone, okay? You need to take a hint, yeah?”
Charlie’s head spins, his mind racing through every interaction they’ve had in the past few weeks. Was Nick always this charming? Was he just being polite? Or had Charlie been too oblivious to see this coming?
“I… oh,” Charlie finally says, his voice barely above a whisper. “Um… okay." Charlie exhales shakily, gripping the phone a little tighter. "I’m, um… I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ve really had somebody flirt with me before.”
Nick’s voice is warm, and Charlie can practically hear the smile in it. “Hmm. Well, that’s a shame, because you are, well, as I said before, cute. And, no, I wasn’t just saying that for the benefit of Remy. I said it because it’s true.”
Charlie’s cheeks flush, his heart pounding as he stammers, “Well, if you’re flirting with me… what does that, uh, what does that mean for… for Immy?”
Nick pauses for a moment before replying, confused. “What do you mean? Imogen?”
Charlie swallows hard, trying to gather his thoughts. “I… I don’t know. Remy came into the car after school and started talking about how you might have a girlfriend who works there. And—”
He hears Nick laugh softly on the other end of the line, cutting him off. “Charlie, are you seriously going to base my romantic life on the opinion of a four-year-old?”
Charlie feels a wave of embarrassment wash over him as he rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t know, okay? I was confused! One minute, you’re over here flirting with me—or calling me cute, at least—and then, like, four hours later, my son’s coming into the car saying you might have a girlfriend. It was confusing, Nick! And now you’re flirting with me again, and I just… I need to make sure I’m not reading this wrong.”
"Me and Imogen?” Nick says, after a few moments. “We’re nothing. We’re just friends. She’s been one of my closest friends since highschool, but there’s nothing romantic there. I promise.”
Charlie’s lips twitch into a small, uncertain smile as he processes Nick’s words. “Oh. Okay. I… that’s good to know.”
“It is,” Nick replies, a playful lilt returning to his voice. “Because it means I get to flirt with you guilt-free.”
Charlie definitely doesn’t remember being flirted with before. Ever. Not in the way Nick is doing it. Even with an ex-husband under his belt, Ben was never… well, he was never the type to compliment Charlie. He wasn’t the type to make him feel seen or special or even appreciated.
Ben was the type to make Charlie feel small. To pick apart the way he looked, the way he spoke, the way he carried himself, until Charlie felt like he was nothing but a shadow of who he once was. Ben made him feel ugly. Made him feel unworthy of kindness, let alone love. And, eventually, Charlie had believed it. He had spent years in a relationship where the thought of someone flirting with him—seeing him—felt impossible.
But now, out of that relationship, with time to heal and space to grow, to be 27 years old and experiencing flirting for the first time? It’s bizarre. It’s unfamiliar. It feels like dipping his toes into water that’s warmer than he expected.
It’s like someone has struck a match inside him, lighting something he didn’t even know was there. The warmth spreads through his chest and settles low in his stomach, and he feels something he hasn’t felt in years: butterflies.
It’s strange. It’s exhilarating. And it’s terrifying.
Because even though Nick’s words make him feel good—better than he’s felt in a long time—there’s still that nagging voice in the back of his head. The one that tells him this can’t be real. That Nick must be joking or pitying him, or that maybe Charlie doesn’t deserve this at all.
He fiddles with the hem of his sweater, holding the phone tighter than necessary. “You’re not… you’re not just flirting with me as a joke, right?”
On the other end, there’s a pause, and then Nick’s voice comes through, calm and reassuring. “No, Charlie. Why would I do that?”
Charlie lets out a shaky breath, his words tumbling out faster than he can control. “I don’t know, I just… I’ve seen the flags in your classroom, about Harvard football. And I’ve seen the photos of you from your college football days that you have on the wall. And you’ve mentioned being on the team and, well…” He hesitates, his voice growing quieter. “I guess I’ve dated a football lad before, and… well, he wasn’t very nice to me.”
Nick’s voice softens immediately. “Charlie…”
“I mean, it was a long time ago,” Charlie continues quickly, his heart pounding. “But it was… bad. He wasn’t kind, and he didn’t treat me like I mattered. And I guess… I don’t know, I see that and I get nervous. Like maybe I’ll just… end up back there, you know?”
There’s a long pause on the other end before Nick finally speaks, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “Charlie, I’m not… look, I don’t know what that relationship was like for you, but I promise you, I’m not him."
Charlie bites his lip, nodding even though Nick can’t see him. “Okay,” he says quietly.
“Okay,” Nick echoes, his voice warm. “And, hey, if you ever want to talk about it—about that relationship or anything else—I’m here. No pressure, but I’m here.”
Charlie exhales slowly, the weight on his chest feeling just a little lighter. “Thanks, Nick. That… that means a lot.”
Charlie opens his mouth to say more, to somehow fumble his way through expressing what he’s feeling, but before he can get another word out, he feels a tug on his arm.
“Daddy!” Remy whines, looking up at him with a pout. “Play with me now. You’ve been on the phone too long. I’m glad Mr. Nick’s not sick, but come on! It’s boring without you!”
Charlie lets out a soft laugh, ruffling his son’s curls. “Okay, okay, give me one second to say goodbye, yeah?”
Remy huffs but nods, crossing his arms. “Okay. But hurry.” Then, in a louder voice, he shouts toward the phone, “Bye, Mr. Nick!”
Charlie winces, pulling the phone slightly away from his ear. “Well,” he says, bringing it back, “I don’t know if you heard that—though I’m pretty sure you did, considering he just screamed in my eardrum—but Remy says goodbye. And, well, it seems like parent duties are calling me back to work.”
Nick laughs softly on the other end. “I heard him loud and clear. Have a good night, Charlie.”
Charlie nods, even though Nick can’t see him. “Yeah, yeah, you too.”
There’s a brief pause before Nick adds, his tone a little softer, “Oh, and before you go… maybe start texting me and calling me a bit more. Not just because you feel obligated to. Or because of Remy.”
Charlie hesitates, his heart doing that stupid fluttering thing again. “Well… if I call, will you answer?”
Nick’s response is immediate, warm and sincere. “Charlie, I’d answer in a heartbeat.”
Charlie’s breath catches, and for a moment, he doesn’t know how to respond. “Okay,” he finally murmurs, his voice quiet but sure.
“Good,” Nick says, his smile practically audible. “Goodnight, Charlie.”
“Goodnight, Nick,” Charlie replies, and as he ends the call and turns to Remy, he can’t help the small smile tugging at his lips.
Charlie doesn’t know much about life. Or love. Or even how to parent, if he’s being completely honest. He doesn’t know much about flirting either—how to recognize it, how to respond to it—or how to deal with the full-scale meltdowns of a four-year-old.
But if there’s one thing Charlie does know, one thing he feels sure of, it’s that Nick Nelson has a good heart. A big heart. The kind of heart that can make you feel safe and seen, even on the worst of days. And maybe, just maybe, if Charlie is lucky enough, he’ll get to experience a little bit of that heart for himself.
Of course, luck alone won’t be enough. He’ll have to be brave. Brave enough to move beyond the comfort of talking and rambling on the phone, of dancing around the edges of something real. Brave enough to take a step forward, to make his feelings known.
But all of that will have to come later. For now, he has a dino battle to win with Remy, a bedtime story to read, and a growing sense of hope that maybe, just maybe, things are starting to change.