Page 126 of Single Dad Dilemma
Me:You are the only person who’s ever said those words to me in my entire life. Puppies are cute. Bunnies are cute.
Barrett:Fine. You’re always scary hot. Better?
Me:Scary about sums it up. I miss you. I wish I could’ve seen you this weekend.
Barrett:I miss you too. We’ll get something figured out once I get through the draft.
Me:Promise?
Barrett:I promise.
“This is so stupid. Who thought we should do long distance? Not fucking me.”
Pouting was not a good look—definitely not on me—but there I was, pouting like an absolute champ.
“How long has it been?”
“Almost three months. How the hell am I supposed to last three more?” I wailed.
“I meant, how long since he was supposed to call you?”
“Oh. He was supposed to call an hour ago,” I said glumly.
Ugh.Pouting. I’d sounded like such a little baby bitch all day, and I couldn’t stop, because now I was an addict. A Barrett King addict. Between me missing his brother’s wedding due to the virus from hell and the draft, it had been six weeks since I’d seen him in person, our only visit happening after he and the kids had taken a whirlwind trip over a long weekend off from school. Not hearing his voice for acertain amount of time gave me withdrawal symptoms, for fuck’s sake. Boyfriends like him should come with a warning label.
Caution: Prolonged exposure will result in a host of dangerous symptoms: inability to fall asleep without hearing him say good night; increased phone sex that makes you question your own sanity because of how good it is; tendency to engage in deep, meaningful conversations where he gently delves into your past and makes you feel okay talking about it; and an overwhelming, horrific urge to cry whenever you look at his pictures on your phone.
“Men are the worst.” Miriam always thought men were the worst. But she had three ex-husbands who were pretty awful. “Why couldn’t I be attracted to women? Marrying a woman would’ve been so much easier.”
I smiled. “He’s not the worst,” I argued. “He’s just ... getting busier. They had the draft recently. We went three days without a phone call last week; he felt awful.”
“This is what happens when you bang the coach,” Agatha said, patting me on the head as she shuffled past. “They’re important, and important people are always busy.”
I wiggled my toes in the water and looked over my shoulder. The girls were in their usual spots by the pool. Agatha couldn’t see anything today because she’d forgotten her glasses at home, but Miriam was always willing to share, even though her prescription wasn’t as strong. Agatha slid them onto her nose and squinted in my direction.
“I like that swimsuit, honey. You look real hot.”
“You don’t think it’s too much? I didn’t want to give anyone a heart attack when I came down here.” I adjusted the keyhole cutout between my breasts, which showed a generous amount of underboob. It was white, with thin straps that tied high on my hips and around the back of my neck. It had arrived yesterday in an expensive-looking box, along with a note from Barrett saying he wanted to picture me wearing it.
If I hadn’t been late for the daily pool date with the neighborhood hellions, I would’ve sent him a new pic. I was gettingverygood at them.
“You kidding? I’d wear that in a heartbeat if I wouldn’t fall and break a hip trying to put it on.”
I patted her knee. “We don’t need that.”
The screen on my phone was still blank, and I let out a pouty bitch sigh.
“You tell him you love him yet?” Miriam asked carefully.
I knew I’d rue the day I’d been feeling all emo about that and found myself blabbing during pool time. Ruing had officially commenced, because now theyasked. They checked in. Theyworried. And even stranger was that I didn’t hate it.
Florida Lily was like a whole different person, and I was still coming to terms with that. I was in my first new job since Larry had passed on to doggie heaven, and even though I had Barrett—and God, did I have Barrett—and the kids, who also called me a few times a week, I found myself talking more. Chatting more. Turned out, opening your heart for someone made it easier for other people to sneak in.
Hell, even Patty and I texted. She was thrilled about this whole me-and-Barrett thing, and made me promise we’d do lunch sometimes when I moved back to Buffalo. Toss in Barrett’s mom, Robin, who’d scheduled a phone date with me every Friday morning, and I was surrounded.
I had people now. A whole bunch of them. But more than that, more than friendly check-ins with people like Patty and the occasional text from Griffin’s wife, Ruby, I had something else that I never saw coming.
I felt mothered.
