“It’s early for you to run,” Reid says.
Part of me beams that he knows my schedule. He also knows how I take my coffee.#justsaying
Crap, he should have saidgirlbecause I’m acting like one.
“I have a conference call on policies.” It’s a lie. Sort of. I do have a call, and it’s on my personal policies.
“Boring?” Reid asks with a raised eyebrow.
“Pretty much,” I say, lying again.
“This is cool, seeing you here. This is how we met, Greg. Kept running into each other, literally.” Reid pulls me close and kisses my cheek like he’s done that exact thing every day for the last five years.
I can’t stop the smile from spreading across my face.
“I’ll let you go. Run, Forrest, run,” he says.
I chirp, “’Bye, talk later,” and off I go.
When I get back home, I strip out of my damp and cold clothes, put on dry ones, wipe my face with a makeup remover cloth, and settle in for my call. Life of a single, work-at-home mom. It’s not glamorous, but it’s better than a cubicle.
Universal oohs and aahs over my reach and engagement. They want to fly Gabby and me there, put us up for five nights in a hotel, and provide all our meals. Um, plus pay me. I should be ecstatic ... I’ve made it! They’re totally cool with my not featuring myself and going around the park anonymously.
“It’s a nontraditional approach, for sure,” their PR rep tells me. “But we’re not the mouse, and we think this could be fun. You’re edgy, and we want to appeal to a diverse audience.”
I must say, “Thanks for the chance,” three times before I hang up.
On a big sigh, I think,Wow!I would have cut off my right arm to have this opportunity way back when I was only a mommy blogger. Now I have it, and I’m not even sure if this is the blog I want to write anymore.
My phone alarm pings, and I don’t have time to dwell. Time to get Gabby and start my second gig. Mom.
Hey, Andrea,
I know it’s been a while. Happy New Year. Hope this finds you well.
Your blog on Penny Pinching was brave, but I like how you called her out. I’m almost afraid of you calling out my blog one day.
I wanted to see if we could chat one more time. I have this opportunity with Disney, and I need some advice. I know I’m putting a lot on you, but I’m a one-man show when it comes to this blog. I don’t have a community. In fact, the woman I’m seeing—I told you about her—she used to be a mom blogger, and apparently there are conferences with learning sessions? I wonder if those exist for someone like me, a man blogger who isn’t a dad.
I’m off track. If you have time to take one more call with me, I’d be so appreciative.
— Reid
“No!” It’s midnight and I was in my bed, checking emails, and now I’m hot and pacing my room. “No!” I say again, practically wearing a path in the area rug.
This has to stop. I can’t keep lying to Reid, and I need a whole new life.
It’s too much, way too much. Gabby adores him, Leona thinks he’s Jesus, James is on cloud nine and wants to come back to Pittsburgh, my sister thinks he’s HOT, and, by the way, he thinks I’m a medical transcriptionist!
My head pounds and I grab some Tylenol.
Saturday, it’s a must. I have to tell him.
I make a note in my calendar, calling itTell Day, and swallow the pain relievers. Refusing to look at my laptop again, I crawl into bed.
Saturday.Tell Day.
I drive Gabby to a new pottery class she’s been begging me to attend. It’s a drop-in art place that has classes for kids after school and on Saturdays. They’ve been leaving flyers at school, and the main problem with an inquisitive child is that they read everything. The class costs twenty bucks, and to be honest, it’s money well spent. I need time to collect my thoughts.
