It’s early, but I can hear Laura downstairs, making breakfast for the kids. I roll over on the sofa, letting out a groan. My back aches from a poor night’s sleep. I’m used to luxury emperor-sized mattresses and Egyptian cotton, not lumpy two-seaters and broken springs. I’m too tall for the sofa, and I’ve been curled up all night. I sit up and stretch, my spine cracking with the movement.

I should go into the kitchen and spend what little time I have with Laura before she goes on her trip. I have one day. However, the thought of being left alone with a hyperactive five-year-old and a sulky teen makes me want to stay away just a moment longer and enjoy the peace I have left before all hell breaks loose. Even worse, while I’m going to be babysitting the kids, Laura’s arranged for Zoe to be babysitting me.

Zoe.

I toy with my cell phone, debating whether I should contact her. Our first meeting was a disaster; our date was even worse. It seems like we’re destined to push each other’s buttons, and that any connection between us has disintegrated.

But she meant so much to me.

Scrolling back through old messages between us, I feel a stab of sadness. It’s not very often that I connect with people. At work, I have to be tough, so people tiptoe around me. With my family, I’ve made a series of mistakes that keep coming back to bite me.

Getting to know Zoe online had felt like a fresh start, yet as soon as we met face-to-face, it had all fallen apart. What’s wrong with you, Tom?

I message her after all.

• Looks like I’m in charge of the kids this week. I was thinking I’d let Jack eat as much candy as he wants, and Megan can borrow the Mercedes, so she can drive herself back from her boyfriend’s in the early hours.

I wait for a reply, wondering if Zoe will answer me at all. Moments later, she does, and I grin.

• I’m ninety percent sure you’re joking.
• It’s hard to say. You’ll have to come over and keep an eye on me to make sure.

There’s a long wait for a reply this time. I think to myself, Congratulations, Tom, you’ve done it again.

Then, she replies.

• Don’t worry. I’ll be watching you closely. I’ll come by after work on Thursday to make sure you’re not letting Jack play with fireworks or giving Megan permission to get a tattoo.
• I think we should get together tonight to discuss our plan of action for the week ahead.
• I’m not sure that’s a good idea.
• Come on, Zoe. We have to be on good terms if we’re taking care of the kids this week. Give me another chance to show you that I can do more than complain.

Another long pause. Zoe must be thinking hard. Finally, she answers.

• Fine.
• Great. I’ll pick you up at five-thirty.
• That early?
• No dinner this time. I have a plan for something less formal. You can leave your stilettos at home. ;)

The winky face is my nemesis. I never quite know when the winky face is the right guy for the job.

Zoe answers.

• My store closes at five-thirty. I’ll be ready to go.

Date secured, I head into the kitchen with a smile on my face. Laura is in the middle of making pancakes, an apron tied around her business suit: Super Mom in action. She looks up at me and smiles. “Morning, sleepy head! You’re looking surprisingly chipper this morning.”

I pull out a chair next to Jack at the table and reach for the orange juice. “I’ve just been messaging Zoe.”

“I thought that was a no-go.”

“One more date. For the sake of the kids.”

Laura raises her eyebrows. “For the sake of the kids. Of course.”

She lays down a pile of pancakes at the center of the table, and the kids immediately dig in. She pulls out her own chair opposite me and rests her elbows on the table, fixing me with a curious stare.

“You really like her, don’t you?”

“I like the woman I’ve been talking to online. Zoe and I haven’t gotten off to a great start, though. I need to find a way to tap into whatever magic we have when we’re communicating through this thing.” I hold up my cell.

“Where do you think you’re going wrong?”

“I wish I knew. I’ve just got the gift of pissing people off. One of my many talents.”

Laura clears her throat. “Language, Tom.”

“Sorry.”

“Can I be blunt?”

“Aren’t you always?”

“You’re sending out the wrong vibe.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re arrogant.”

I frown. “I don’t think so.”

Laura laughs. “Come on, Tom! You’re constantly talking about how invaluable you are, what a big deal you are, how much money you make. Honestly, it’s tiresome. People switch off. You never make an effort to take an interest in anybody else.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “I don’t think that’s true.”

“Don’t listen to me, then. But, I’m telling you: that’s where you’re going wrong.”

“I can’t help it if what I do is important. I’m not trying to boast. It’s just fact.”

“Oh my God, Tom. Learn some humility. You make a lot of money, and you have a big company, yes. But get it into your head that people’s everyday lives, the small stuff, matters as much to them as your great big enterprise matters to you. Zoe’s flower shop, for example—it means the world to her. I bet it didn’t even come up in conversation on your date though, did it?”

“We’ve spoken about it online.”

“But when you met her in person, I bet you completely forgot everything about her.”

I think back to the date. I didn’t ask Zoe much about herself. Our chemistry online had come from our constant back-and-forth. The only back-and-forth we’d had in person was when we were slinging insults at each other.

“Point taken. I should take more of an interest in her.”

“Exactly.” Laura looks pleased. “Tone down the billionaire schtick, and you might relate to Zoe on a personal level. For one night, forget you have a company. Forget your job, your money, and all of that. Make it about her. Let your personality win her over, instead of trying to impress her with your assets.”

“I get the sense people don’t think much of my personality.”

“It gets lost beneath all the bullshit.”

“Language, Laura!”

She chuckles. “There you go—a sense of humor. Lead with that. You’re funny, Tom, and you’re smart. Don’t let those qualities get buried by your ego.”