Page 2 of Betting Brett

“The people at the pizza place do,” my daughter tells me snarkily. I grin at her but don’t say anything. If I tell her how much she reminds me of her mom when she talks like that, I just get an eye roll. Pre-teen girls are weird. She’d probably say the same thing about me.

For the next two weeks at work, I’m partnered with my friend Sam Conroy. I’m happy about that. Sam and I work great together, and that makes everything easier. Our office uses rotation pairings so that everyone has a chance to work with everyone else. There had been a problem before I was hired with a couple of bad apples partnering up and covering for each other. Now the sheriff rotates partners, and it works out pretty well overall. It means that we all know each other and how to work together, but I have co-workers I just click better with, and Sam’s one of them. I like his husband, too. Though we never seem to hang out outside work as much as I’d like.

This week, Sam and I are patrolling the backroads of the county. It tends to be laid back, and we chat a lot as we drive. Sam’s been telling me about the research he and Paul have done into adopting a child and how the process is going. Frankly, it sounds frustrating, but they’ll be great parents whenever they get done jumping through the hoops to make it happen.

I drive past the turn-off that leads to my family fishing cabin and tell Sam about my plans to take Andy fishing later this month.

Sam laughs, “I’m looking forward to meeting him. You haven’t talked about anything but Andy all week. I’m starting to wonder if he has superpowers or something.”

“I’m just really glad that he moved back,” I say with a smile. “Everything is more fun with him around. I missed him when he moved away about as much as Jen when we got divorced, and she left for Denver.”

Sam raises an eyebrow at me and then changes the subject and asks me about my dating life, which is something I’ve complained to him about often.

“I’ve got a date tonight with someone from that app,” I tell him. “She seems nice. We’re supposed to meet at the Italian place in town. We’ll see how it goes, but I don’t have high hopes. I don’t know why I have such a hard time. It just seems like so much work, and I haven’t been on a date in a long time that was worth the effort.”

“Just have to find the right person,” Sam says with a smile. “And then any amount of trouble would be worth it.”

“I’d like to,” I agree. “I know it can happen, and you know I go on a decent amount of dates. It’s just that whether they are someone I meet on an app, in the grocery store or someone my mother sets me up with, I can’t imagine spending my life with any of them. And I’m pretty sure most of them feel that way about me.”

“Maybe you’re fishing in the wrong pool,” Sam says teasingly. “Paul knows a couple of nice guys I could set you up with.”

I roll my eyes at him, and the conversation moves on to the renovations Sam and Paul are planning for their backyard and what kind of play structure he should build. It’s a fun, uneventful shift, and I’m in a great mood as I head home and get ready for my date.

Isabelle is at her Grandma Darlene’s house. She may be my mom, but somehow, it’s just more natural to refer to her, even in my head, by the full title. She’s a full-title kind of woman. The kind that has stationary that says, “Mrs. James Andrews” and signs all of her meticulously handwritten correspondence that same way. I’m grateful that she and Dad are willing to hang out with Isabelle so often, even though as she’s gotten older, Isabelle seems to enjoy it less and less. It’s probably boring over there with the old people, but it’s sure nice to have someone that I trust to watch over her.

I have my pre-date routine down so well that I don’t even have to think about it. It’s probably sad that I go on so many first dates that they don’t make me nervous anymore. Shower, clean underwear, nice outfit, cologne, and I’m on schedule to make it to the restaurant just exactly on time. About half an hour later, I’m sitting across from my date, Amanda, who’s acting like I just told her I own a dozen alligators when I bring up my daughter.

“Oh,” Amanda says, pursing her lips. Her body language immediately changes. She clears her throat and crosses her arms. “I didn’t know that.”

I have no fucking clue what to say to that. Things were going… fine until then. It wasn’t any different than other dates I’ve been on. She’s undeniably attractive.

Amanda has long dark hair and pretty green eyes. She’s tall and curvy, which is evident in the form-fitting dress she’s wearing. There’s just nothing there. Regardless, I push on with a fake smile.

The moment I mentioned Isabelle, things went south. This isn’t the first time that’s happened on a date, either. A lot of women get turned off the moment I tell them I’m a father. That’s why I always mention it early on. They usually don’t blatantly say it, but it’s obvious.

“Yeah, she’s eight years old,” I add, still trying to keep my body language positive. There’s tension in the air now that I’m trying to dispel. “But I won’t talk your ear off about it.”

She seems relieved when I say that, which I expected. I’ll manage to fill the rest of our date with polite conversation and be cordial.

I order spaghetti Bolognese as always. It’s been my usual since high school, and I rarely change it. Things don’t change much in Shafter Falls, and I guess I’m included in that. Honestly, though, I like that. It’s comfortable, especially with my best friend back in town.

While we wait for the check, I head to the bathroom. I’m relieved the date is almost over. I’m ready to pick up Isabelle and get home.

I wash my hands, thinking about my recent dates. I sigh heavily as I look in the mirror. Even my best dates had this same feeling I can’t quite describe. As well as I’ve gotten along with some of my past flings, it’s always as if there’s something missing.

Hell, it was the same way with Jennifer. We always got along, had great times together, and worked well together as parents. In theory, it was a great marriage. It took us a few years, but we finally had to admit to ourselves that we loved each other but weren’tin lovewith each other.

There’s something about your first serious relationship that makes you think it’ll always be something more. You’re convinced they’re “the one” because you experience all kinds of new things together. It seemed natural for us to get together, the typical head cheerleader and football player. With nothing to compare it to and family pressure, we didn’t know better than to get married way too young when we found out Jen was pregnant.

It’s been seven years since we got divorced. I thought by now I’d have found something that feels like love, but no such luck. I sometimes wonder what the hell is wrong with me, but maybe I just need to be patient.

I blink back to reality after getting lost in thought. I still have to pay the check and tell Amanda goodbye. I rub my temples, preparing to put on a fake smile and try to be a gentleman regardless.

I push the bathroom door open, ready to weave my way back to my table, when I stop dead in my tracks. Andy is standing in front of me, also frozen in surprise.

3

Andy

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