Page 1 of Single Mom's Christmas Wish

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Dakota

“I’m a hot mess.”

Bouncing between freelance bartending and child CPR training gigs while staring down a bucketful of debts and trying hard to do right by my daughter can be overwhelming.

“Hot. Mess.”

For heaven's sake, I can’t even find the right room in this place.

A young man pops out into the main hallway. This community center should be easier to navigate. What’s the point of putting numbers on the doors if the numbers aren’t in a logical sequence?

“Hey there!” I wave at him and put on my lost doe in the middle of the highway face. “I’m looking for Room 23. Do you have any idea where that is?”

“Oh. Uh…” The kid stares at me as if I just asked him for the square root of 1,245, then runs a hand through his shaggy brown hair and starts looking around. He’s as confused as I am. “I haveno idea…”

“The Single Dads Club,” I say, hoping that’ll help.

It doesn’t. “This is NA,” he replies, pointing a thumb at the room he just exited. “There’s a whole bunch of meetings happening here on a Friday night, huh?”

“Yeah, and I can’t seem to find the right one. I’m supposed to lead a training class on child CPR there, and I’m already late.”

“The rooms are numbered weirdly, though,” he mutters, still glancing around. “I don’t get it. What’s the point of—”

“Putting numbers on doors if they’re not in order. Yeah, I know, already pondered that, thank you,” I shoot back, shaking my head in dismay, then checking my watch. I’m going to be more than late, too. I’m going to be egregiously late, which sucks. I am annoyingly punctual by nature, and the slightest delay tends to mess up my Zen.

I thank the guy and make my way farther down the hall while I call Chelsea. As soon as she picks up, I hear my daughter cheering in the background. They’re watching TV. “Hey, Chelsea. All good over there?”

My best friend laughs. “Girl, it’s not my first time babysitting this angel of yours. Also, remember what I do for a living?”

“Home daycare, yeah, pretty sure it’s why I dropped Maisie off at your place tonight,” I reply with a sliver of snark. Chelsea and I go way back. She can take it and dish it out in equal measure. It’s why our friendship has lasted since preschool. “Listen, I’m in a bind. Where’s Room 23, the Single Dads Club.”

“So glad you took the gig. See, I told you it was worth it to get all those certifications,” Chelsea replies, and I can hear her smiling.“Plus, you’ll get to meet some single hot daddies in the area.”

“Chelsea, I am late. Focus!”

“I thought we were booked in Room 32, as usual,” Chelsea says. “I’m confused.”

“Yeah, me, too. A huge announcement was printed on the bulletin board downstairs, saying the Single Dads Club was moved to Room 23 for tonight, but they didn’t mention the floor or anything. And with how this community center is arranged—”

“Ugh, I know, it’s frustrating. Look for Eric. He’ll know where Room 23 is. He’s been involved there for much longer than I have.”

“No, I haven’t seen him anywhere, and dang it, I’m late. I am officially late,” I say, checking my watch. “Hot mess, as usual…”

Chelsea chuckles. Sometimes, I appreciate it when she doesn’t take such comments seriously.

“Let’s not panic,” Chelsea says. “You said Room 23, right? It should be on the second floor, I think.” She pauses for a moment. “Maisie, stop flipping the channels. I’ll help you out in a second.”

“I want Bluey!” my daughter whines in the background, and I can’t help but smile.

“She probably pressed the wrong button on the remote, looking for the sound,” I say. “She’s still getting the hang of that thing.”

“Right, so… where were we? Room 23. Try the second floor,” Chelsea replies.

“All right, I’ll try. Can you just text Eric in the meantime? I didn’t save his number.”

“Sure thing.”

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