No, dammit, stop this!
I’m acting like a lunatic, and if I keep sitting alone in the dark letting all this shit rattle around my mind, I’m going to become one. I need to talk this out with someone who doesn’t have any skin in the game, unlike Mom or Dak. Someone who can commiserate with me and maybe offer some advice.
I grab my phone and open the group text with Bryce, Lesley, and Devin.
LEXINGTON: Hey, guys, is anyone still up?
Surprisingly—or maybe not, given that none of them have kids—it’s only a few minutes before Devin replies.
You forget all about your big-city friends?
I type, Sorry I’ve been AWOL for so long, a lot’s happened since I left. I actually wanted to talk about some of it.
BRYCE: Sure, what’s up?
I type out my reply. So, do you guys remember Corrigan?
It’s Lesley who responds first.
LESLEY: Your old high-school sweetheart? Yeah. Did you run into her?
I chuckle and decide to come clean. A little more than that . . . I hired her as a nanny.
DEVIN: OMG, dude, I can’t tell if you’re a genius or a moron.
His message is accompanied by a cry-laughing emoji.
BRYCE: You still into her?
LEXINGTON: Way too much. And even though she’s still mad about how I fucked up our relationship when I left, I’m pretty sure the attraction isn’t one-sided. I’ve definitely caught her checking me out. Like today, when we were at the beach.
LESLEY: See? I told you there’d be women into the single dad scene.
I huff out a sigh and start typing again.
LEXINGTON: But a few nights before that, she said no when I asked her out, and today she said she had a date this weekend, and now I’m losing my shit.
I shift on the mattress, worried for a second I’ve said too much. But I’ve never had to censor myself around them before, so why start now?
BRYCE: Spoke too soon, Les.
LESLEY: How did that come up? Did she just bring it up out of the blue or what?
LEXINGTON: I said I asked her brother what was going on with her, dating-wise—
BRYCE: Why the hell would you tell her about that? Or do it at all, actually?
LEXINGTON: Summarizing makes it sound worse than it was. It seemed like a good idea at the time, just let me finish. So I said her brother didn’t like the idea of us dating, but I didn’t care what he thought, the only important thing was what she thought. And that’s when she told me about the other guy.
BRYCE: Oof, shot down twice.
DEVIN: I have one question for you . . . when’s the last time you got laid?
LEXINGTON: What’s wrong with you? Is my sex life all you ever think about?
DEVIN: Shut up and listen to me. This is very important. You need to get some post-nut clarity before you make any more decisions about this chick, or else your dick is going to keep calling the shots, and that’ll be bad for everyone involved.
I snort and shake my head. My friends are idiots, but there’s a kernel of truth to Devin’s advice.
BRYCE: I never thought I’d say this, but I agree with Devin.
DEVIN: Hey!
BRYCE: It’s obvious you haven’t been thinking clearly about this situation.
LESLEY: I get it. It’s confusing that she acts like she wants you and then says she doesn’t or can’t or shouldn’t or whatever. But sometimes we get horny for people who aren’t right for us. And it seems like that’s true for both of you.
LEXINGTON: Believe me, I know. I know I should try to move on. But I just can’t let her go.
And I know they’re just trying to be helpful, but this situation, my feelings for Corrigan are not about hormones or being horny.
BRYCE: You’ve really got it bad, huh?
LESLEY: I’m sorry this is so rough. I don’t really have any good advice.
LEXINGTON: No, talking has helped. Thanks, guys . . . I’ll think about it more tomorrow. For now, I’m going to have a glass of whiskey and try again to get some sleep.
• • •
“Ooh, it all looks so tasty, I can’t decide,” Mom says, poring over the café’s menu.
Gail smiles. “Your appetite’s really improved.” The hot, humid breeze ruffles our hair, and she lays one hand on the drink menu so it doesn’t blow away.
“I’m glad,” I say, part listening, part figuring out what to order for myself and Grier, and part trying to stop her from launching herself out of the high chair at the bear-like dog resting by the next table. “I think this was a good idea.”
Our original plan for today was to go over to Mom’s place and cook brunch for her, but when we found her feeling great for once, I decided, Fuck it, let’s seize the opportunity. I couldn’t remember the last time Mom and I went to a restaurant together, and I knew we’d never been on a family outing with Grier in the mix.
Not to mention, I’m painfully aware that Mom doesn’t have many more chances to do nice things like this—the three of us need to make memories together while we can. So even though I’ve spent the last two nights unable to fall asleep until unholy hours, I’m glad we’re putting in the effort.
“Doggy!” Grier says loudly.
“I know, love bug, it’s a dog,” I say. “What do you want, Gail?”
Gail shakes her head. “I ate breakfast before my shift started, so I don’t need anything.”
“I asked what you wanted, not needed,” I say with a smile. “I insist, get whatever you like. My treat.”
“I can come back,” someone says.
Keeping one eye on Grier, I look to find our waiter standing by. “I’m ready if you all are.”
“Sure. I’ll have the . . .” Gail glances at the menu. “Basic egg-white combo and a coffee.”
I say, “Coffee for me too, and the—”
Grier glares at me. “Daddy, doggy!”
Nodding to Grier, I quickly finish our order, ordering eggs for me and pancakes for my daughter.
The waiter turns to Mom. “Coffee for you as well, ma’am?”
“Oh, I wish I could, but coffee’s started giving me a stomachache lately. I’ll have iced tea, please, and the spinach eggs benedict.”
He takes our menus and departs just as Grier hits the end of her patience with being ignored and releases an earsplitting howl of “Dooooggiiiiiieeeee!”
The old man at the next table lets out a warm, gravelly laugh. “That’s a powerful set of pipes. Would your little princess like to meet Hamburger?” he asks me. “He’s very calm.”
Giving up, I lift Grier out of her seat and set her down. “I think she might explode if she doesn’t.”
She screams with glee and buries her chubby fingers deep in the dog’s plush coat. True to his owner’s word, the dog barely moves, except to lick her cheek—prompting another loud squeal.
“Gentle, love bug, you’ve got to be gentle with animals,” I say. “How would you feel if someone pulled your hair?”
Grier pauses to process this, then continues mauling the dog, only a little less fiercely. He doesn’t seem to mind, based on how his tail thumps a rapid beat on the concrete patio.
Gail asks the old man, “So, Hamburger?”
“My granddaughter named him. She’s thirteen now, but she was only . . . oh, about your little one’s age when he was born.”