Page 86 of Say Yes to the Hot Mess

I take a big breath, exhaling loudly. “Okay. I’m just going to spit it out, all right?”

She nods.

I hope I’m doing the right thing by telling her this now—Ireallyhope I am. But I can’t keep it from her. Not if we want any chance at making this work.

So, with one last prayer sent to anyone who might be listening, I drop the bomb:

“I’m your pen pal.”

Twenty-One

Maya

Dex’s wordsdon’t sink in at first.

Which is dumb. There just aren’t that many interpretations for “I’m your pen pal.” But it still takes a second, and I frown. “You’re—”

“Your pen pal.” He nods. “The man you’ve been writing online—”

“Oh, my goodness!” I gasp. “You’re—you’reKingston?”

He nods again, taking his glasses off and rubbing his eyes. “I am. And before you get mad—” He holds up his hands, forestalling me. “I only found out, like, yesterday. When I asked Hanan—askedyou—what you were doing this weekend, and you told me about the wedding.”

“Crap, Dex, I told you that I dreamed about kissing you!” I say, my mind reeling as I try to remember everything I said to Kingston. My cheeks heat as I recall our conversation.

“Mmm, you did tell me that.” His raises one brow as he adds, “But you never gave me details, and I find myself very interested.”

“I’m ignoring that request,” I say, narrowing my eyes at him even as I fight the urge to laugh. “You told me I shouldkissyou!”

He at least has the decency to look sheepish now. “I—yeah. I did do that. Although to be fair,” he adds quickly, “you had already told me you thought you had feelings for him—me—whatever.” He shakes his head, looking confused as he tries to figure out how to merge his two personas. “And I know you—you would never kiss anyone you didn’t want to kiss.”

“Wow,” I say. I go to run my fingers through my hair, but it’s too tangled. I would be embarrassed if it weren’t for the fact that this is a regular occurrence for me. “Just…wow. It makes sense, I guess,” I say, thinking. “I first introduced myself because you were the only one I saw who was close to my age.”

He nods. “That’s why I really kept talking to you, too,” he says. He hesitates, then asks, “So…are you angry?”

“No, not really. I’m a little shocked, though,” I admit. And there’s a whole host of other emotions that I can’t even put a name to yet, swirling around inside, shouting to be heard.

“I was, too,” Dex says. “It sort of blew my mind.”

“Yeah,” I say fervently. “That’s definitely happening.”

Dex is my internet friend.Dexis myinternet friend.

“Do you want me to lie low for a bit?” he asks, more quietly now. “Do you need some time to process or whatever? Because I’m going to be honest. I’d really like to take you on a date soon, if that’s something you want, too. But I don’t want to push if you’re not ready.”

And here it is: the moment I’ve been wondering about since Archer was born. The moment when I have to decide if another man is worthy of being in my baby’s life. Because I’m dating for two now. Whoever I date, Archer also dates, in a sense. If I bring a man into my home, I’m inviting him into Archer’s life. And that’s not something I take lightly. Not at all. I may not be a perfect mother—heck, I’mdefinitelynot a perfect mother—but I’m not going to expose my child to people who will end up hurting him or me. It’s just not going to happen. Not if I can help it.

Dex, though? He’s not perfect either, but I trust him enough to be around my son. In fact, I think…I think I mightwanthim to be around Archer. Just to see them interact more, to see how they do together. I want to be around him more too, for the exact same reasons—to see how we do together.

“No,” I say softly. “I don’t want you to lie low. I would love to go on a date with you.” There’s a lightness blooming inside, something giddy and relieved. I hadn’t realized how torn I was between Dex and Kingston until this very moment, but apparently I was. Kingston’s dry humor, Dex’s deep laugh—I love them both. Not having to choose? It’s perfect.

The smile Dex gives me is some sort of mix of happiness and triumph as we push through the front doors, turning the locks as we go, and emerge into the night.

And then…silence. Complete and utter silence, save for the sounds of our footsteps across the pavement.

And good grief, it’s so awkward I want to die.

Until—

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