Page 20 of Single Mom's Christmas Wish

“They were all into me. I mean, theyareinto me.”

“Hold up. They want to share you or what?” she laughs, not really believing any of it. Why should she? Her reaction is totally normal. I’m clearly the crazy one, willing to go ahead with it in the first place. But how could I turn them down? “Dakota?”

“Yeah?”

“They want to share you?”

I nod once. “I want it, too.”

Chelsea takes a deep breath, watching my hands move as I load various ingredients into the tin shaker. She’s known me for so long that I simply don’t see the point in keeping this from her.

“Let me see if I’ve got this right,” she finally says. “We’re talking about Reed, Archer, and Maddox, the three hot triplets you met at the Single Dads Club, who are currently fostering their best friends’ son with the intention of adopting him. Do I have it right so far?”

“Yeah.”

“These three want to be with you, to literally share you.”

“Yeah. It sounds insane, I know.”

“We’re not talking about taking turns or planning days like Reed gets Mondays and Fridays, Archer gets Tuesdays and Thursdays, and Maddox gets Wednesdays and Saturdays, for example. The three of them at the same time. On the same date.”

“I believe that is the case, yes,” I reply, and it is so hard not to laugh as she’s spelling it out.

“For what it’s worth, I think you should go for it,” Chelsea declares. “If it makes you happy if you want to give it a shot to see if it’s something you’re into, I say go for it. You’re a grown-ass woman with thoughts, ambitions, and needs of your own. You gave Keith some of your best years, and it is time for you to finally focus on yourself and spoil yourself. And if spoiling yourself means getting it on with three identical-looking studs, then knock yourself out, sister.”

“It’s insanely taboo,” I mumble, then push one of the glasses over to her. “Give this a try.”

“So, what if it’s taboo? I won’t tell anyone. They certainly won’t tell anyone. Besides, it’s nobody’s business. You said they run some huge fintech company, right?”

“A corporation, actually.”

“Therefore, they have to be concerned about stock market shares, public image risks, and so on and so forth. They definitely won’t tell,” Chelsea concludes and takes a sip of my cocktail. Instantly, her mood shifts, her expression softening and glowing with wonderful surprise. “Oh, my God, Dakota, what magical potion is this?”

“Go easy; it does have some triple sec in it,” I chuckle softly.

She gives me a long look. “This talent needs to be nurtured. It’s as if summer itself is exploding in my mouth; I don’t know how else to describe it. But if I close my eyes, I can picture myself somewhere in the Bahamas, a tanned hunk fanning me with giant peacock feathers while I sip this, and thank heavens, I’m no longer a mere mortal. Honey, this cocktail is practically transcendent.”

“I’m so glad you like it.”

“Like it? I love it. Is it your own recipe?”

I nod once. “But also a twist on an old favorite of mine.”

“You need to give it a name, and you need some big, high-class bar event to showcase it.”

“That would be nice, for sure,” I agree.

We go back to talking about the triplets, and by the time Chelsea leaves for the night, I find myself resolved to give things a try.

Chelsea was right; I deserve a little treat.

6

Dakota

As the days go by, I try to focus on everything else going on in my life, for there is plenty. With Maisie in Chelsea’s daily care after school, I am able to get more work done. A couple of barista gigs here, an evening cocktail lounge job there, and another child CPR training at a preschool down the road from us. Yet, as Friday comes along, I have a look at my online bank account and realize I’m nowhere near close to what I need for outstanding mortgage payments on my house.

The bank keeps calling. The word “foreclosure” is getting tossed around more often than before. I can feel the noose tightening around my neck, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up. I find peace and joy in my daughter’s soft arms. I find passion and energy in my little bartending experiments at home, late at night, after Maisie’s gone to sleep. But I can also feel my battery reaching a critical point.

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