Then, finally:
Camille:What’s another car
seat, right?
I stared at it for a long second, not sure if she was joking or testing the waters. Relief loosened the tight knot that had been sitting in my chest all night.
Me:You say that like you’re
okay with it.
Camille:I don’t know. I think…
part of me could be. Maybe
not now. But someday.
Me:Someday sounds pretty
good to me.
Underneath the jokes, my thoughts kept circling. Three kids. That wasn’t just dating. This wasn’t “grab a drink and maybe text tomorrow.” But I wasn’t afraid of it. I was afraid of screwing it up.
I set the phone down, leaned back against the couch, and let the truth sink in.
She thought this would scare me off. Maybe it should have. But her honesty made me want her more. If she could lay it all out, maybe I could be man enough to try again.
???
The next afternoon, I picked up my phone that sat at the coffee table beside a half-drunk energy drink. I thumbed a new message before I could overthink it.
Me:So, about this mini golf date…
what’s the prize for the winner?
Camille:Pride. Bragging rights.
Ice Cream.
Me:Sounds like you’ve thought
this through.
Camille:Only because I plan
on winning.
Me:Iadmire the confidence.
Even if it’s misplaced.
Camille:We’ll see about that. And for
the record, if you don’t let me win,
you’re a monster.
I chuckled, shaking my head. I wasn’t going to let her win. And I had a feeling she’d respect me more for it. I told myself it was just mini golf, nothing more. But as the day went on, I kept checking the time like a damn teenager.
