As Andrea, I answered Reid and told him a phone call wasn’t possible. “I’m way too swamped with work at the moment,” I wrote.Swamped with mixed feelingsis more like it.
Walking into the coffee shop down the street from Artsy Fartsy (that’s the name of the craft place, for real), I tug my hair back into a bun and take a long inhale. I don’t know what I’m so worried about. Reid is such a good guy. One of the good ones.
I think back to Halloween when we finally met IRL, and he offered the girls apples as a joke. I knew then, he is more thanGrill and Groom, better than just a stats professor, and greater than the sum of both. He’s the kind of guy who deserves a young wife and a big family and all the riches that go with it.
So, what’s he doing with me?
I suspect it won’t be for long after today.
And I’m back to questioning my motives and decisions, and Reid’s character. That’s me. Non-trusting.
Hey, if your ex walked out on you in the delivery room and the famous bloggers called you ugly, how would you be? Exactly. A woman’s skin can only be so thick.
After my coffee, a short run, a shower, and a quick post on upcoming Martin Luther King Jr. Day (not all posts are evil ... this was about all the free museums to attend around the country on that day), I’m ready to conquer the world.
With Gabby in tow, babbling about how her bowl will be ready for pickup in a week, I nearly pass out when she asks, “Are you going to marry Reid?”
“What?” I stop on the sidewalk, directly in front of the coffee place where I started my day.
“Lizzie says her mom said if you were going to bring Reid to Christmas, you’re going to get married.”
I begin to tell her that’s exactly why I didn’t want to bring him, and change course midway through. “No one can really say whether someone else is going to get married or not. It’s fun to fantasize about it, but no, I’m not. We just met, and that’s not how two people decide to get married. It takes time to make a smart decision about spending your life with someone.”
“What about my dad?” she asks as I’m crouched on the sidewalk in front of her, already emotionally spent.
“What about him?”
“You’re not spending your life with him, and I want a dad.”
“Well, that’s just the thing. I don’t think your dad and I spent the adequate amount of time deciding things. That’s why I’m not rushing again. I’m sure it doesn’t make sense to you now, but one day it will. We hopped into things too quickly.”
“Like me?”
Why today?
“Not you. We spent time thinking about you. I know it doesn’t make sense, but some adults aren’t ready for kids. They’re a lot of work. I was ready, and I couldn’t wait to have you.”
There were only so many white lies I could tell Gabby. Last March, I leveled with her. I told her that I wanted her, and her dad was still making his mark on the world. Back when I told her this, I had no idea we would revisit it now.
“I get it,” she says. “And I never met my dad, so I don’t care. But I like Reid. I pick him.”
I laugh a little as I stand up and take her hand as we begin walking again. “It’s not Target. We can’t just get a dad for you.”
“Mom, I know,” she says, drawing out the last word like only little kids can.
For the moment, the topic is dropped, and we get in the car and zoom off to the movie theater. We’re meeting Reid there to see a cartoon about dogs who act like humans when their owners leave. I’m sure he’s thrilled.Not.
The movie is pretty funny, and I hear Reid laugh a few times, my insides turning to mush. After the first few handfuls of popcorn, I decide against eating any more since my stomach is churning. Gabby’s sitting between us, and to the outside world, we look like a cute starter family.
Anothernot.
I resist the urge to check Twitter and my blog’s comments, another challenge when I’m with Reid. It’s part of why I need to tell him, but my tongue gets tied twelve times over when I think about it.
After the credits roll, Reid asks, “Want to come over for pizza?”
“Are you making it on the grill?” Gabby looks at him, bright eyed and bushy tailed.
“Nope. I did a grooming post earlier. I’m going whole hog and calling for delivery, whatever toppings your mom wants.”
