Page 22 of Single Mom's Christmas Wish

“That doesn’t sound rough. It sounds wonderful,” Cole says.

“It was wonderful for us, to be honest,” Archer replies and steals a knowing glance at me. “The company was incredible, and I’d love to do it again. But Trevor didn’t respond as excitedly as we hoped. He kept to himself for the most part. He paid attention to the tour guide and what she was saying, but there was a little girl with us, and Trevor wouldn’t even look at her. The girl tried to be friendly, but…”

“Trevor is becoming more and more closed off, even with us,” Reed adds with a furrowed brow. “He’s barely come out of his room over the past couple of days. He only comes down for dinner, says a word or two, and then he’s back upstairs, doing his homework, then playing video games. We don’t know how to help him.”

“He needs more time and all of your patience,” another dad says. “I lost my wife a couple of years ago, and I still struggle to connect with Andy. His mother was the glue that kept us together. I didn’t really understand that until I lost her.”

I nod in agreement. “Our parents are the very first people we meet when we’re born. They are our entire world, our entire universe, the ones we later model ourselves after. Trevor lost them both at an age where he simply cannot imagine a life without them. Yet he is now forced to live said life. It’s hard.”

“Sometimes we feel like he really doesn’t like us all that much,” Reed sighs.

I can almost feel his grief. They’re mourning, too, not just Trevor. But as men, as adults, they have to set their emotions aside to focus on the boy. They love him like their own, that much I could tell from our visit to the Science Museum. They always kept an eye on him while we were there, they clearly take good care of him, and they seem to enforce boundaries when needed. They may think he doesn’t like them, but they’re missing something important, and I get it.

“When you tell Trevor not to do something,” I say, “does he rebel? Does he go against your wishes?”

“Most of the time, no. He does what he’s told, but we do explain why he shouldn’t or cannot do or say certain things,” Reed replies.

“He respects you, then. He sees you as an authority in his life,” I say, smiling gently. “That speaks volumes. You think he doesn’t like you because he doesn’t open up to you like you’d hoped, right?”

The triplets nod at the same time, giving Cole a reason to chuckle softly.

“You guys are amazing dads already, and you don’t even know it,” Cole says. “The trouble with orphaned kids, especially boys, is that they tend to be closed off. Men, in general, don’t openly talk about their feelings. I’m sure we can all agree on that.”

That gets him a resounding yes from the entire room, prompting me to giggle.

“So why are you expecting a boy to do what most men won’t?” Cole asks, looking at the brothers. “I agree that Trevor needs more time and all of your patience. It’s going to be a long and bumpy road until you all find that same wavelength, but you already have his respect. Has there been any more trouble in school?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary. Just seven-year-old kid stuff,” Reed says. “Maybe an hour of detention here and there, but nothing that would be cause for alarm.”

“If anything, he’s better behaved than the three of us ever were,” Archer shoots back with a satisfied grin. “His grades aren’t as good as we’d hoped, though.”

“Tutoring might be a good idea, at least until he gets the grades up to where they need to be,” I say.

The more we talk about our kids, the more I realize that we are all stuck in the same pot, boiling on a medium fire, struggling to make sense of a situation we never planned for. We’re human beings, prone to error and learning from our mistakes, but unlike most modern-day parents, we don’t make a habit of passing ourselves off as perfect in front of our children. We make sure that they know we’re human, that we make mistakes, andthat we deserve forgiveness and patience, just like they do.

In that sense, I have to admit that I am quite proud of how I’ve raised Maisie thus far. Her brilliance aside, my daughter has learned to be kind and empathetic, and when I mess up, she doesn’t hold me to some unreachable standard because she understands I’m merely a mortal. I just wish she had a better father.

“How is Maisie doing in the absence of her dad?” Cole asks me at one point.

“Honestly? She’s doing okay. She’s a little sad from time to time, especially when other kids in school mention doing things on the weekends with their dads. But Maisie’s father wasn’t really that present, to begin with, so I don’t think she truly misses him. She might be missing what could have been, but Chelsea and I do our best to fill in the gaps.”

“Chelsea?” Cole replies.

“My best friend. She’s the one I told you about last time. She runs a daycare from home and watches Maisie after school so I can work. She’s got a social worker on speed dial, as well. I will happily recommend her to anyone who needs her services,” I say, beaming with pride.

By the end of the meeting, I end up giving her number away to three dads in the group.

“I’m taking you out tonight,” Archer tells me as I get up.

“You’re taking me out tonight?” I repeat after him, somewhat dazed.

“I’m guessing you want to explore this further, given the door you chose to walk through tonight.”

I give him a long look, then gaze over to Reed and Maddox, who smile before they walk over to Cole to help him clean up. “As in a date?” I ask Archer.

“A date. If you’d like.”

Half an hour later, we’re at a cocktail lounge downtown. It’s a small but snazzy bar modeled after a speakeasy from the Prohibition Era, hidden in an old building. There’s a faux private investigator’s office at the front, and patrons must indulge in role-playing before they’re allowed to go in.

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