Chapter Twenty-Three

While Cody was finishing up homework Sunday night after returning from my parents’, I went online. I hadn’t logged in since Friday night—technically, the wee hours of Saturday morning. Honestly, commenting and posting could be a full-time job. My Saturday had been too busy attending my nephews’ track meet and the photo shoot to even think about getting online. I’d also wanted to do something fun with Cody yesterday, so we headed to an indoor go-kart track for an evening of fun.

The new status quo when I got online was a barrage of emails, comments, shares, and likes. I already had twenty-five thousand people like my Facebook page. It kind of blew my mind. Though, just like in my real world, not everyone online liked me, but the majority of followers and comments were nothing but nice. Several people, mostly women, shared their own stories about how divorce changed their social circles. They even linked helpful articles, like “Coping with Divorce,” “Life After Divorce,” “How to Deal with the Loneliness.” I bookmarked each one of those links. I needed all the help I could get.

One woman, who professed to be a psychologist, commented that it was common for friends that my husband and I had had as a couple to be awkward around only me. She recommended that I move on and find new friends. She said women may resent or fear me now that I’m single. That made me feel so much better, because it wasn’t bad enough that my husband left me for a younger woman. Though the jerk still claimed it was me that left him. For a doctor, he was an idiot. Avery taught me a new word for him, le salaud. I was going to love learning French.

While I was responding to my “friends,” I received a text from Reed.

Would this be a good time to talk?

I looked upstairs from the living room couch. Cody’s door was shut. Then I looked at the beautiful bouquet in a vase on the coffee table in front of me. I thought about the way Reed’s leg touched mine all during dinner, and how his hand purposely brushed mine when I handed him the salad dressing. So maybe there was a hint of a spark.

Do you need more advice on dairy products? I texted back.

This is much more important. Can I call you?

It should be a simple yes or no answer, but this was anything but simple. What did I say? I took a few minutes to think.

So is that a yes, you can’t wait to talk to me? he texted again.

I laughed to myself. When did he get to be so charming? Okay.

My phone immediately buzzed.

“Hello,” I whispered.

“Should I talk in hushed tones too?”

“If you want.” I got up and walked into my room so Cody wouldn’t hear me.

“Are you saying you want me to whisper in your ear?” He thought he was so funny and laughed at himself.

I couldn’t help myself; I laughed too. “Did you need something?”

“Need? Hmm. Want? Yes.”

“And what is it you want?”

“Two things. First, I want you to say yes to my dinner invitation. Second, I want your address.”

“Can’t you just get it off Cody’s paperwork?”

“Well, I could, but that borders on being a stalker.”

“I agree, so thank you for not going that route. Why do you want it?”

“I was thinking that the next time I gave you flowers, it would be cheaper if I had them delivered to you instead of buying some for your entire family.”

“That would be more economical, but not necessary.”

“It could be.”

“When has anyone needed flowers?”

“We all do. They help rid the air of carbon dioxide and other toxins. And they feed honey bees. Where would the world be without honey?”

“It would be bleak and dreary, I suppose.” I played along with the ridiculous conversation, grinning from ear to ear.

“Exactly. So what’s your address?”

“I don’t think bees feed off cut and delivered flowers.” I wasn’t giving in.

Neither was he. “Debatable, but think of the florist’s job you could be saving.”

“I’m always up for a good cause. I guess I’ll start buying more flowers for myself. Thanks for bringing the plight of the florists to my attention.”

“That did not go how I wanted it to go.”

I laughed at him.

“Sam.” His serious tone halted my laughter. “Have dinner with me.”

I paused and paused some more. “Reed, it’s so complicated.”

“Because you may have been the older person in charge of me and Peter a few times a hundred years ago?”

I noticed how he refused to say babysat. “There’s that, but you’re Cody’s coach. Think about what people would say if they knew we went on a date. I don’t ever want anyone to question why Cody’s on that team or anything he accomplishes on that field.”

It was his turn to pause. His breathing patterns indicated he was deep in thought. “I don’t want that either, but anyone that sees Cody’s talent will know he’s earned it.”

“You know how people are. They don’t usually look at things objectively. They’ll see what they want to. Look at how those two women acted over my blog post. And apparently, since I’m single now, I will be resented and feared.”

“By who?”

“Women.”

“That’s not true.”

“I have it on good authority. And you should have seen the looks I got at the game Friday. If I went out on a date with you, those looks would morph into turned heads and whispers. Before you know it, they would be accusing me of sleeping with you so that Cody could get more playing time.”

“Whoa. That escalated.”

“You know it’s true.”

His sigh said I was right. “When does Cody graduate?”

“Too soon.”

He thought for a moment. “It’s dinner. We could keep that under wraps.”

“You want to have a clandestine outing?” I cringed. Did I really just use that word?

“Maybe eventually, but I know how you feel about illicit interactions without legal binding documentation.”

Did he just say that maybe he wanted to . . . you know? Moving on. “Are you mocking me?”

“Not at all. I just want to have dinner with you.”

“And where would we go?”

“This is progress. I wanted to take you to this great hole-in-the-wall place in Chicago. They have amazing food and a live jazz band, but we’ll save that for when you’re comfortable being seen in public with me.”

“You are getting way ahead of yourself, there. Dinner is a one-time thing.”

“Frequently, dinners lead to more dinners, and other things.”

I wasn’t going to ask what those other things were. I was pretty sure I knew. “We could have an awful time together. Then we would always be uncomfortable around each other.”

“I don’t see that happening.”

Based on our conversations, I didn’t either but . . . “Reed, I’m a mess, trying to put my life back together right now. And what would people think? I baby—”

“Please don’t say it,” he interrupted.

I rubbed my forehead. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. And Sam, I think you have it more together than you give yourself credit for.”

“I feel like I’m fumbling through life right now.”

“Perfect. On the field, I hate fumbles, but off the field, I’m your guy. We can fumble together.”

“You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?”

“I’m only asking for a chance. Go out with me once, and if you like it, we can do it again. And maybe again after that.”

My bedroom felt like it was spinning. My breathing shallowed. However, in the midst of my mild panic attack, I pictured Reed with Cody at my parents’ house earlier tonight. They had high-fived their way through the first half of the Bears game, laughing and joking as they went. During some of the commercial breaks, they went out and tossed the football. I wanted to know what they were talking about in the backyard, but I knew if I interrupted, Cody would have clammed up. But Cody smiled and laughed, so that’s all that mattered to me.

Reed made me smile and laugh, too. It was only one dinner.

“Okay,” I breathed out, “but no one can know. I won’t do that to Cody right now.”

“You have my word. Now, what’s your address?”