Was your mom serious about helping me find childcare?
I click send before I can second-guess myself. But the moment the text leaves my drafts, I know it was the wrong thing to say.
“Shit. I went right into dad mode.”
I rub my eyebrows and mumble, “Way to shut things down fast, asshole.”
Was my mom serious? You might want to leave a spare key under the mat for her. That way, she doesn’t have to bother you when she drops by unannounced to meddle in your business.
That message has no emoijs in it, but she follows it up with a second text of a girl with dark hair shrugging and another one of a yellow face laughing.
I start to feel the tiniest glimmer of relief, and I say so.
Very cool. I could use a meddling mom-type in my life. Especially if that means I’m free to let you take me out again.
I click send and wait, watching my phone for a reply, but nothing comes.Annnnd shit. What I thought was clever and flirty was probably just…not.
I’d ask her out in a hot second. I don’t know how I’d get time alone with her without some sort of childcare, but Grace is gorgeous and funny. She seems so at ease with my kids. I don’t know if a woman like her would have any interest in me, let alone any man with kids, but I don’t have long to fixate on my worries. My phone rings a second later.
“Hey, I know it’s late. You got dad stuff to do?” Her voice is sultry and quiet, like maybe she’s lying in bed.
“No, uh, no,” I stammer, jumping up from the couch and pacing the living room again. “Kids are sound asleep, and I did all the dad stuff.”
“Good.” I can hear rustling as she adjusts the phone. “I’m watching a movie in bed. Thought it would be easier to talk. You have a lot to learn about living in a small town.” She chuckles, and I walk to the kitchen to pour myself something to drink.
“Enlighten me,” I say, holding the phone with one hand. “And if you hear that in the background, I swear I’m pouring a glass of water. I did not take you into the bathroom with me.”
She laughs, a loud, surprisingly sweet sound that sends chills down my spine. “I have three brothers,” she says. “Not much would surprise me. But I might be a little less inclined to go on that date with you if you took me to piss on our first phone call.”
“Ah,” I say, grabbing the glass and heading back to the couch. “So, a date isn’t totally off the table.”
She groans. “Keep this up, and my mom’s going to have us married off by Christmas. She loves to meddle in her kids’ lives, in case you couldn’t tell.”
“I can appreciate a mom like that,” I say. The words come out a lot quieter than I intended, and Grace grows serious.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I feel like I need to say that. You lost your wife. The mother of your kids. And they are so, so little. I’m close to my entire family, even if sometimes they feel way too damn close. It just feels weird to not talk about what you’ve been through. Is it weird for you?”
“With you, no. Can I be completely honest?”
“No, lie to me, Ryder.” Gracie snorts, and I picture one of those brows putting me in my place. “Seriously,” she says, growing more somber. “Tell me anything. You don’t know me, but I’m a very trustworthy person. Even though Star Falls is practically fueled by gossip, I prefer to keep private shit private.”
There’s something else in her voice when she says that. Almost a note of sadness. I’m sure she’s been on the receiving end of small-town talk at some point. She’s probably speaking from experience.
“Well, I’m probably making the buildup a lot more serious than it needs to be,” I say. “I have dated a little bit since Elizabeth passed, but I didn’t tell any of those women that I was a widower.”
“What?” she squawks, and I hear rustling sounds like she’s sitting up in bed. “So, what did you do? Like, make up crazy stories when they asked?”
I laugh. “Nothing quite that exciting. It’s not like I told them she ran off to join the circus or anything like that.”
“Who even does that?” she challenges. “Nobody joins the circus anymore. Aren’t they, like, unethical? You need to come up with a better story. Really make them wonder.”
I laugh again. “I’m shit at this.”
I realize that makes me sound insecure, and I try to backpedal fast. Fuck, I’m not cool. I tell myself to calm down. She’s just a woman. A beautiful, tattooed, spunky woman who called me. I just have to talk to her.
“Most of the time, when it came up, it was enough to say that we weren’t together anymore, and I had full custody of my kids. Most women were either turned off or turned on by that.”
“Yup. Exploding ovaries,” she murmurs. “It’s a real thing. A hot guy with two cute kids. I can just see the dating profile bio.”
