“Yes, meaning no,” I clarified further. “No, I’m not interested.”
“None of those guys?” she asked. “Not a single one? You don’t want to go out with any of them?”
“I don’t, but I really appreciate your work,” I told her. “It’s so comprehensive.” She had compiled a list of at least twenty men and she (and one or more of her many siblings) had added a lot of information along with the names. There were employment histories, family backgrounds, and criminal ties, and one column labeled “misc.” had things about their hobbies,second language abilities, pets, et cetera. It had taken a lot to put all that together, and I thanked her again.
“But you don’t want it anymore?” she questioned me further. “I thought that you were totally over your former fiancé. Do you still have feelings?”
“Absolutely not,” I said firmly. I’d had only one additional contact with Dax in the previous weeks, and it had been through a private investigator. I’d hired someone in Chicago to confirm that he really was staying at his mother’s house—and yes, he was. He was occupying the basement, the PI had told me, and sneaking out at night by taking her car so that he could visit gross bars and try to pick up unsuspecting women. He didn’t have a job but he had gotten several speeding tickets, and it was all exactly what I would have expected from him.
He was a shifty little leech. I wasn’t as good at insults as Silas, but I thought that one wasn’t bad.
“Did you meet a guy on your own?” Juliet asked. “I’m going to need some information to give to my sisters, because I told them the whole story of you and your fiancé breaking up and they’re invested.”
“You can just say that I’ve decided that I don’t need a relationship,” I suggested. “I’m satisfied with where I am.” Maybe I wasn’t exactly satisfied, but I had decided to push that aside so I could pursue my main goal: starting a family. I’d begun to research and plan for that in the same way I had taken on all of my life’s major decisions, like where I would go to law school and where I would apply for jobs. I made lists andtimelines, files and notes. I was thorough and meticulous in everything I did…
Well, not exactly everything, because I hadn’t acted that way about the truck. I had bought it without my usual research and contemplation, which had been odd. I had made a few important decisions lately that hadn’t developed out of my usual process.
But my family planning would. I didn’t share anything about it now because Juliet’s husband was my direct superior. I would let him know about my pregnancy when it was actually happening, but before I was wearing maternity clothes and asking people for opinions on names, like Rashelle had done.
“Could you please also thank your sisters for their help?” I asked her. “I’ll save your list of guys in case I get interested in dating again sometime in the future.” It might happen, although I was aware that it would be less likely once I had a baby.
“This is very unsatisfying,” she complained. “Everyone got excited about having another wedding. I remember how you told me once that you had every detail planned.”
“Did I?” I thought about the mood boards I’d created, the dress designers whose gowns I’d drooled over, and the secret lists of vendors for flowers and food that I’d saved under the heading “Gynecologic Issues” in case Dax had insisted on going through my phone. He had, sometimes, but he’d never let me see his.
The creepy centipede. “Your sister Grace just got engaged, right? I can send my ideas to her, if she wants,” I suggested. I myself was interested in the details of this latest Curranmarriage, but I had to end the call shortly. Softball evaluations were today and Silas and I were picking up Lyra from school. And…he would be driving, because his license had finally been restored! I had thought I’d understood how it bothered him to be without one, but when he’d gotten the decision, the relief I’d spotted on his face had made me almost start to cry. Instead, we’d made a buttermilk pie to celebrate and now he was back behind the wheel.
He was a more careful driver than I ever expected. “I have you in here with me,” he explained a little while later, when I got into the passenger side and I asked him about that. We pulled into downtown traffic. “Also, this truck is the nicest thing on the road. Why is everyone else driving so damn fast?”
It took much longer than what the lying phone predicted for us to make it over to Lyra’s school and then to the park where this softball league held their evaluations. There was no reason to be nervous, since there were no cuts on the teams in her age group, and she also knew what she was doing. We’d been spending a lot of time together to get ready, which had reminded me of how I’d learned from my dad. Now, I took a quick video and a bunch of pictures of her with her bat bag and I sent them to my parents in Kentucky.
“There’s no reason to be anxious,” my mom wrote back. She was, and so was I.
Lyra and Silas were totally fine, though. “Ok, bye,” she called over her shoulder as she ran off toward the other girls, and we made our way more slowly toward the bleachers where parents sat.
“Lyra’s going to do great,” he said.
“I know,” I answered quickly. “And I’m not putting any pressure on her. My parents never did to me, and I think that’s one of the reasons that I liked to play. I knew that they wanted me to have fun. But my mom did admit, years later, that she used to throw up before my big games.”
“I could see that,” he said thoughtfully. “Your parents have been texting me today with tips.”
“For Lyra?”
“And for you, in case you’re nervous.” He looked down at my face. “It’s not a tryout,” he reminded me, but he put his arm around my shoulders as we walked. We found a place among the other adults, but then we did have to move since Silas blocked the view of everyone behind us. We ended up standing next to the bleachers, and also next to a woman who stood rocking her hips back and forth to soothe the baby she had in a front carrier. It was screaming its head off but it really was adorable.
“So cute,” I whispered to Silas.
“That kid?Really?”
The mother must have heard even over the shrieking, because she gave him a dirty look and walked away. “I meant that the crying isn’t cute. The baby’s fine,” he called after her. “Damn.”
“I know that you don’t like them.”
“What? There she goes!” He pointed at the field and we watched intently as Lyra and the other girls jogged out and then tossed balls back and forth to warm up. The rest of the evaluation wasthem going through different stations of hitting, fielding, and pitching. They were far away but she looked great, very relaxed and like she was enjoying herself.
She had been, which we got to hear once we were in the truck and on the way home. “Those girls are mostly ok. I hope I get on the same team with the one named Jasmine.”
“Is she nice?” I asked, smiling.
