And how would Wingman respond when he found out that I have a son? A son that I made no mention of last night in the back seat of his car.
It doesn’t matter either way, I reasoned.
Wingman was a one-time thing. I wasn’t looking for a relationship. And I certainly wasn’t assessing him for potential father material.
Besides, there was a chance that Wingman might not even show up. Just because he’d invited me to the charity ride didn’t mean he would actually go. He could have changed his mind when broad daylight sobered him up and he realized he wasn’t that interested in seeing me again after all.
“Hey,” I said, nudging Mikey with my elbow. “Go grab some presents. Bring them in here. We’ll open them while we’re all cozy and tucked into bed.”
Needing no further prompting, he hurried out of the room. I heard the crinkle of wrapping paper and the patter of his footsteps return. Then he deposited an armload of presents on the mattress and wiggled his way under the covers again.
I watched as he opened them, carefully tearing the wrapping paper. Maybe I could start dating again. It would be good for Mikey to have a dad in his life. Someone who could talk to him about his love for toy cars. Someone who was there for him when I couldn’t be.
But if I intended to start dating again, I couldn’t hide my boy anymore. I had to let the world know that I was a single mom with a son who needed a father figure.
“I’ve got a question to ask you, Mikey,” I said, propping my head on my head as I looked at him.
“Yeah?”
“Do you want to go see some motorcycles today?”
Mikey’s eyes grew wide as saucers.
“Really?”
I nodded.
“I know a bunch of super awesome guys who would love to show them off and tell you all about them.”
“That would be so cool!” he replied, squirming with excitement.
I grabbed his sock-covered foot with a squeeze and gestured to the door.
“Go on. Get dressed. I’ll make breakfast and we’ll leave after that.”
Mikey scrambled out of bed with a whoop, darting around the corner. I flopped back against the pillows with a sigh, bracing myself for the day ahead.
Chapter four
Wingman
“If you keep craning your neck like that, you’re going to pull a muscle,” Ironside mumbled into his coffee.
I huffed, rubbing my gloved hands together to generate some heat. The temperatures were warmer than yesterday, and the wind had died down for clear blue skies, sunshine, and crisp sparkling snow. The quintessential, magical white Christmas.
Despite searching for the past hour or two, I saw no sign of Elaine. And I was beginning to get the sinking feeling in my gut that she wouldn’t come.
It seemed as if half the town had shown up for the ride, clustered around fire pits and in heated tents that dotted the park. A massive buffet table was laden with food that folks had brought, creating a feast fit for kings.
Aside from a splash of whiskey slipped into coffee and cocoa, the beer and mulled cider wouldn’t start flowing until laterin the afternoon, after the ride, so no one was driving while intoxicated.
“She always has plans on Christmas,” Ironside said.
I turned to look at him.
“Who?”
He shot me a glance as if to say,do I look like I was born yesterday?
