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“Great,” she exclaims. “Maybe we should all go out to dinner sometime. So I can introduce you. In case you ever do come over.” She takes a seat on the stool next to mine. “You’re up.” She notices the stunned look on my face. “Relax. I’m messing with you.”

Rachel dares me to toss the dart with my eyes closed. I’ve yet to back down from a dare, so I do—and surprisingly hit the board. She squeals and claps. “Nicely done!”

When she tries, she nearly hits that guy taking a shot at the pool table. “Sorry!” she calls out, biting her lip in apology. I cough to stifle a laugh. It feels good to laugh. Strange, but good.

“Thanks for asking me to come out,” I tell her when I settle the tab.

“You mean, harassed you until you finally said yes?”

“I don’t remember it that way,” I say playfully. She smiles back.

Then begins chewing on her lip nervously.

“What?” I ask, knowing her guilty look. The one I’ve seen many times at the office when she jams the printer or deletes an important file—we have a stellar IT girl who always bails her out.

“I kinda screwed up,” Rachel says, zipping her jacket. “And I’m hoping you’ll… cover for me.”

“Explain.” I brace myself, prepared for this to be about work. Lying for her or helping her fix something before she gets caught. I can’t imagine what else she’d need me to help her with.

She hesitates before confessing, “I have no idea how to be the parent of a teenager. It’s been about five years since Emma lived with me, and I want her to think I’m… cool. I know that sounds stupid, but I doubt she sees me as her mom, anyway. It’s been too long. Too much has happened.”

When her silence stretches, I encourage her, “I’m still listening.” This was not where I thought this was going.

“I may have told her that you asked me out. That you’ve been trying to get me to go out with you, but I was too nervous about the age difference.”

I tilt my head at the lie, not understanding the need for it. She backtracks in a blur of words. “I know, it’s awful. It’s just that I’m trying to connect with her. I want her to feel comfortable around me.”

“So you think she’ll relate to you better because you’re hanging out with a younger guy? And that makes you… less parental?”

“Exactly!” she exclaims, then frowns. “Sort of. I mean, those aren’t the words I would’ve used. I just didn’t want her to think I’m pathetic.”

“That’s not a word I would use for you,” I assure her. I shrug. “I mean, I guess it doesn’t matter. She can think I asked you. But it’s not like it’s a relationship or anything.” I lay this out gently, because the last thing I want is for her to convince Emma that we’re dating or anything remotely serious. That could get messy. Rachel already lied to her. The truth no longer matters.

“I know. I know. Just casual.”

We walk out to the parking lot. Rachel follows me to my truck, instead of letting me walk her to her car. “Um. Can I tell you something I haven’t shared with many people?” She’s acting nervous.

When I remain silent, she explains, “I think it’ll help you understand me a little better. Think of it as a trust test to our new friendship.”

“You can trust me.”

“Good to know.” She gives me a small smile. “I lost Emma’s father when she was little. He was the love of my life and… then he was gone. I tried to raise her on my own, but I was in so much pain; I knew I wasn’t good for her. And so, I… had to heal.

“Now that we’re reconnected, I don’t really know how to do this. Should I be her mom? She’s nearly eighteen and about to start a life on her own. Or… be more of a friend? You know, to help her navigate life. Learn from my mistakes.”

I’m not sure where she’s going with this, but I can relate to the loss. I know how hard it is to function after losing the love of my life. I remain silent and let her decide how much she wants me to know.

“The reason I asked if you’d meet her is… I thought… maybe you could give me advice?”

I scoff. “Parenting?”

“No.” She laughs. “How to relate to her. I can tell you’re really understanding. Hell, if I’d said half of this to any other guy, they would’ve been driving away by now.”

“So what are you asking exactly?”

“Dinner? Maybe once you meet her, you’ll be able to tell me what to do. She’s brilliant but so closed off. I am the opposite of her. I’m loud and ditzy. It’s like she got all of him and none of me.” She swallows back the sadness and smiles brightly. “Thankfully.”

“Uh, I guess. We can do dinner some night. I mean, I’m not sure how much help I’ll be. But it’s not a big deal.” She throws her arms around me, knocking me back a step.