But the man didn’t notice. Because he was looking right past me at Polly. I turned to watch her, too, as she slowly walked across the dismissal area on her way back to our classroom. Her winter coat was open, her arms crossed protectively over her baby.

I glanced back at the man again, then walked casually over to sit on the bench next to Ethan.

“Don’t look now, but see that guy over there?” I said.

Ethan looked.

“Do you know who he is?”

Ethan stood up. “I’ll take care of it. Go talk to Polly.”

Polly was sitting at the kiddie table in our classroom, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“I am so, so sorry,” I said. “If you want to date my father, it’s none of my business. You’re both consenting adults, and it’s none of my business, and as long as you don’t make them change too many diapers, the rest of my family will come around eventually. Did I already say that it’s none of my business?”

Polly wiped her eyes with the back of one hand.

I handed her a tissue, because that’s what preschool teachers do. I sat down across from her.

“What?” Polly said after she finished blowing her nose.

“My father,” I said. “I saw you two together at Jake’s Seafood last night. And I heard him coming downstairs from your room the other night. Not that it’s any of my business.”

“That’s what you’re mad at me about?” Polly said.

I shrugged. “Not mad. Exactly.”

Polly rested her arms on the table, her head on her arms. “So if things worked out between your dad and me,” she mumbled to the tabletop, “that means that technically I could ground you, right?”

I squinted at her.

She lifted her head off the table, started to laugh. “Are you insane? After all you’ve done for me? Everything in my life seemed so dark and hopeless. You gave me a job, took me in when my rental got flooded. Why in the world would I mess that up by dating your dad?”

I looked at her some more.

“He likes to keep me company. He talks about your mom, and tells me about all of you when you were babies. How you were bald as cue balls, except for Billy Jr.”

“Michael,” I said.

“And he worries about me getting enough to eat. That’s why we went out for fish and chips last night.”

I stood up, walked over to our whiteboard, grabbed a purple marker.

“Never assume,” I said as I wrote ASSUME in huge letters on the board.

I circled the first three letters. “It makes an ass.”

I made big circles around the U and then the ME.

“Out of you and me,” I said. “Although in this case, it probably just made an ass out of one of us.”