by Poppy Parkes
“It really is,” I agree. My gaze lingers on her eyes, but I decide that it’s none of my business. “Rory’s very fond of you, you know.”
Hattie’s smile widens. “That’s so nice to hear. I’m a big fan of her too.” She leans in, glancing around us as if to make sure no one’s within earshot. “Don’t tell the other parents,” she whispers, “but Rory’s my favorite kid in the program.”
I can’t stop the grin that spreads across my face. And hell, why would I want to? My daughter is amazing, and I’m grateful that her favorite role model can see it.
Rory races over, unclipping the chin strap of her helmet. “Dad! Did you see? It was my first time on the zipline and it was awesome!”
I pull her into a hug. “You bet your butt I did. You’re so brave, kid.”
“And,” Hattie adds, “you conquered our hardest climbing wall today also.”
I pull Rory back so I can look her in the eyes. “The one with the upside-down part?”
She nods, the helmet flopping back and forth on her head, green eyes blazing above the freckles she inherited from her mother. “Yeah! It was super hard, and I thought I was going to fall.”
“But you kept trying?” I lead.
“Uh-huh, and I did it!”
“Heck yeah you did,” Hattie says, and now Rory throws herself into the young woman’s arms. Hattie returns the hug warmly, and for the second time in a handful of minutes, tears spring to my eyes. This time, they’re tears of gratitude that Rory has a kickass female like Hattie in her life.
We met Hattie through the Outdoor Adventure afterschool program, but she’s also babysat Rory. And on top of that, Rory’s attended every summer day camp that Hattie has headed. I don’t have enough fingers to count the number of times that my daughter has asked if Hattie could sleep over.
The idea hits me like a lightning bolt, shocking in its obviousness. Once again, words spill out of my mouth while my mind struggles to catch up.
“Hey, Hattie,” I say, “would you be game to accompany me and Rory to my family’s get-together this Saturday? As friends, of course. Rory would love it —“ I glance down at my daughter, who’s nodding her head so hard her helmet falls off “—and you’d be doing me a huge favor.”
Hattie’s cheeks flush, and with a start I realize how lovely she is. She’s probably about ten years younger than me, and I’ve always seen her as perfectly rough and tumble and a total badass. But now I’m realizing how feminine she is too, with graceful limbs, a willowy body, almond-shaped eyes, and a purple-pink pixie cut that gives her an elfin look. Something stirs in my belly, vaguely familiar, like a mostly forgotten but wholly pleasant dream.
I shove it away, eyes on Hattie. My heart’s in my throat and it suddenly feels very important that she says yes.
“Will there be food?” she asks.
“Loads of it,” I promise.
“Then I’m in.” Her lips twist into a tilted half-smile that makes me grin in return.
Rory crows with happiness and jumps, punching the air. “Yes! This is awesome!”
“More awesome than the zipline?” Hattie asks.
“Uh, duh. You’re the best.”
I can tell that Hattie’s taken aback by my daughter’s easy reply, but I do not expect the tears that make her gray eyes swim.
A primal force in me rears its head, demanding that I protect this hurting woman. I have to shove my hands into my pockets to keep them from pulling her into an embrace.
Hattie sniffs and the tears are gone as quickly as they came, the thickness of her voice the only evidence that they existed at all. “Then it’s settled.” She crooks an eyebrow at me. “Just know that I can eat a lot.”
“My mother will be delighted.” I chuckle. Because even though my head is spinning, I’m realizing that I’m relieved that Hattie will be joining Rory and I at the party for reasons that have nothing to do with appeasing my mother.
Hattie
I don’t know what makes me say yes. Maybe it’s how sad I feel over never being able to have a kick-ass kid like Rory of my own. Maybe I want the distraction, something to take my mind off the news. Or maybe I’m just lonely.
Whichever it is, the result is the same — I accept Ben’s offer.
And then Rory promptly makes me cry.
So I chomp hard on the inside of my cheek and force my tears to back the hell off. Ben looks at me curiously, though, with something like empathy in his emerald eyes.
Which makes the tears threaten to fall all over again. Because I realize that here is a person who’s known real loss and can truly relate — in general, if not in the specifics of my situation.
I can’t stop thinking about the moment when I see Ben see me. I’m still turning it over in my mind as I pack up my things after all the kids have gotten picked up. I carry it with me on the drive to my townhouse, and it’s all I can see when I’m trying to follow the instructions for a mango chicken curry recipe. The dish somehow turns out okay, but I burn my naan bread.
It feels like Ben is looking over my shoulder as I sweat through my free weights workout, attempt to watch Netflix, then finally give up and get ready for bed.
By the time I’m tucked beneath the sheets, the specter of Ben is starting to freak me out, so I grab my phone and dial Emmy’s number.
She picks up on the first ring. “Hey, friend. What’s the situation?”
I wrinkle my nose even though my friend can’t see me. “Who says there’s a situation?”
I can hear the gentle smile in her voice. “It’s nearly ten o’clock on a weeknight. You wouldn’t be calling this late if there wasn’t a situation.”
“We’re not even to our late twenties yet. Ten o’clock isn’t late for us.”
“Also, I am a licensed therapist and it’s my job to see through bullshit. So spill.”
I sigh. “There’s this guy —“
“A guy? That’s great!” Her soft voice rises. “Do tell.”
“Well, he’s the dad of one of my afterschool kids.”
She sucks in a breath. “Ooh, maybe not so great. It can get complicated, mixing work life with personal life.”
“Well, it’s already gotten a little personal. I’ve babysat his little girl, and she’s straight-up my favorite kid of all time.”
“Okay.” Her voice trails, demanding details without saying the words.
“He asked me to go with him and his daughter to some sort of family get-together. As friends.”
“But?”
I twist the bed-sheets around my free hand. “I don’t know. I just can’t get him out of my head.”
“Are you attracted to him?”
The question shouldn’t surprise me, but it does. “I don’t know. I guess I’ve never thought about it. He’s got to be a decade or so older than me.”
“Are there any strings attached to going to this family party?”
“Not that I can see. But what the hell do I know? You can hardly call my relationship history real dating.”
While I did have a steady boyfriend through high school, ever since I’ve flitted from partner to short-term partner, alighting with whatever man or woman caught my eye before dashing away to something new and interesting. I’ve never seen that as a bad thing, and have enjoyed stretching my wings in this way. Now I’m wondering if I was wrong.
“Hey.” Emmy’s voice steadies me, drawing my mind away from my swirling thoughts. “If you like this guy, even though you’re not sure what kind of way you like him in, what harm can come from going to this party with him and his kiddo?”
A fresh fear clutches me. “I don’t want his daughter to feel caught in the middle.”
“I know you, Hattie. You’re an adventurer with a heart of gold. Those kids are so lucky to have you working with them — and they are so safe with you, body, heart, and mind. I know that you’ll bend over backward to make sure you protect this girl from any kind of confusion or hurt.” She giggles. “And I’m not talking about the aeri
al stunts you like to pull.”
I smirk. My friend is right — she does know me, and know how to make me smile. And I do like making the high ropes course even more challenging for myself whenever I traverse it. Maybe testing out being Ben’s — date? platonic buddy? — for this party might be similar. I’ll be trying something new, seeing how I handle it, hoping that it makes me stronger and smarter.
“And if you’re not sure how you’ll get along with him one on one,” Emmy continues, “you could try doing something with him before the party.”
“What do you mean?” I scowl. Now I’m the confused one.
“Take a trial run at being his date, without his daughter present. When’s the family get-together?”
“Saturday.”
“Then ask if he’ll go out with you Thursday or Friday.” That smile enters Emmy’s voice again. “I bet he’ll say yes.”
I’m not convinced. “You think that’s a good idea?”
“Would your very own personal therapist suggest something that she thinks is a bad idea?”
I snort. “Probably not.”
“If you go out with just him, you’d get some of the initial awkwardness over with before the main event with his family.”
“Hm.” She has a point. “I think you might be onto something.”
“I know.” Coming from anyone else’s mouth, those words would probably be flat and biting. But Emmy somehow fills them with giggles and love. Sometimes I think my friend isn’t all the way human, considering how kind, thoughtful, and optimistic she is.
“Thanks for chatting with me, Em.”
The mirth ebbs from her voice. “Of course. I’m here for you. To talk about anything.”
I hesitate, thinking of the news from the doctor. Words stick in my throat and I can’t decide if I should swallow them or choke them out.
After a moment, I shake my head and swallow, hard. Not yet. Soon, but not yet.
“Good night,” I murmur, feeling suddenly exhausted.
“G’night, my friend,” Emmy says, and then the line goes dead.
The softness of my bed is already tugging me toward slumber, but before I click the bedside lamp off and give myself over to it, I have one last thing I want to do.
Navigating on my phone to the text app, I open the group message from Amelia, Kate, and Emmy.
I think I’m in for movie night, I type, then hit the “send” button.
Holding my breath, I open a new window and, before I can think about it too hard, text Ben. Hey. Want to practice for Saturday by going to the movies with me? Just grown-ups.
I send it off and put my phone to sleep before it tells me if he’s seen my message and is answering or not. Setting my phone on the nightstand, I turn off my light and settle into the comforting darkness. I slip my fingers into my pajama bottoms and wonder if it’s strange that, even while teasing myself, I can’t get Ben’s face out of my head.
Ben
It’s my fault that we’re late for the movie. Or maybe it was Rory’s fault. She couldn’t understand why I was going out for the night and Hattie wasn’t her babysitter. The former made sense to her. But the latter? It was unfathomable to her young mind.
But I hadn’t wanted to tell her that Hattie was the one I was going out with. I’m not sure why.
Well, that’s not exactly true. I know that I didn’t want to give Rory the wrong idea about things, to get her excited for nothing. Because she’d be head over heels over the fact that I’m going out with Hattie MacLean.
But why hide that from my daughter? What is there for her to get the wrong idea about? It’s just a friendly, platonic date to get us through any awkwardness before bringing Hattie to the family shindig.
At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.
Because every time I think about Hattie, my heart performs an awkward somersault and my low belly begins to tighten in unexpected anticipation.
Regardless, that’s why it takes me twenty minutes to get out the door when Hattie texts me that she’s outside in her car.
“Sorry,” I say as I buckle myself into her pickup. “Rory.”
“Say no more. I work with kids for a living. I get it.” She smiles as she pulls away from the curb.
We sit in silence for a few blocks. To my relief, Hattie asks, “Want some music?”
“Sure.” I try to sound nonchalant, like I’m not quietly sweating in the passenger seat trying to think of something, anything to say. I’m not normally tongue-tied around Hattie. But then I’m not normally going on a date with her.
If this is even a date at all, I remind myself as she sets her phone playing AC/DC through the car’s bluetooth sound system. Her text had said this was just practice for tomorrow afternoon’s party. And I’d been explicit in stating that her presence at said party was strictly platonic.
Now I’m wondering if that’s really what I want.
I peek at Hattie out of the corner of my eye. My gaze travels her lithe, muscular body, taking in her lavender crop top, creamy knitted sweater, and high-waisted jeans that probably hug her ass perfectly. How did I never notice her beauty before? I’ve always marveled at her strength and tenacity, but I feel like I’m viewing her with new eyes — and I like what I see.
Hattie sees me watching her. “This okay?” She nods at the car radio.
“I love AC/DC.”
She smiles, and the expression floods my chest with warmth. I find that making this woman smile eases my nerves and gives me no small amount of satisfaction, and I want to do it again and again.
We ride the rest of the way to the movie theater in easy silence as we listen to the music together. Once Hattie parks the truck, we hurry inside.
I head to the box office, pulling out my wallet to purchase our tickets, but she hooks her arm through my elbow and pulls me away, shaking her head.
“This one’s on me,” she says, brandishing her phone, showing me a digital barcode that must be for our tickets.
“Oh,” I say, taken aback. “Are you sure?”
She laughs, and the sound is like chimes in the sunshine. “Would I have gotten our tickets in advance if I wasn’t sure?”
Cringing, I reply, “I guess not. Lead the way.”
I follow her past the ticket checkpoint and into the winding halls of the theater until we find the right one. I don’t remember what we’re seeing, but I don’t care. I’m game for anything if she’s the one asking me to do it with her.
The previews are already rolling, and Hattie and I quietly tiptoe our way to our seats. I frown as she settles in a seat directly next to another theater-goer. The theater has enough empty seats that we don’t have to sit directly next to strangers.
Then she turns and greets the man she’s seated next to and reaches around him to hug the woman he’s with, and I realize that they’re not strangers at all.
My jaw drops. Hattie brought me on a double date.
Well, if it’s a date at all.
I’m unsure what to do or think about this, and my nerves spring back to life.
Hattie looks back at me, eyebrows lifted, and pats the empty seat next to her.
With a sigh, I take it, feeling very much like the fifth wheel.
There’s movement on the opposite end of our aisle. Craning my head forward to see what it is, my stomach sinks further as another couple sits on the opposite side of Hattie’s friends.
Yep. Definitely the fifth wheel.
Hattie turns and smiles at me, and despite my confusion again there’s that sense of satisfaction. But her smile freezes as I watch and turns into an open-mouthed look of horror.
“Oh my god,” she whispers. “I didn’t tell you that we were going with my friends, did I?”
I shake my head, wishing I could have that smile back.
Then she grips my forearm with a strong hand, the heat of her touch penetrating the canvas of my jacket, and suddenly I don’t mind the current situation so much.
“I’m so sorry. My head is a
mess these days. We can leave if you want.” Her brows knit together, eyes wide with apology.
“It’s okay,” I murmur. “Is this what you want — a triple date with your friends?” I cringe at the word date. “I mean, a hangout — I don’t want to assume it’s a date —“
She cuts me off by nodding her head fervently. “It is what I want. And . . .” her voice trails off, eyes now full of questions, “I don’t mind calling it a date if you don’t.”
Now it’s my turn to grin. “I don’t mind at all.” Actually, I really like it — and you, I add silently. I wonder what might happen if I spoke the words aloud — and if I’m brave enough to.
“Thank you. So much.” She squeezes my arm one more time, and when she releases me, I miss the warmth of her touch.
We both settle back in our seats, taking in the previews. Hattie occasionally leans forward to talk to her friends, but always looks back at me when she’s done. She makes me feel included in the group even though I haven’t met these people, and this gives me just one more thing to add to my list of reasons why Hattie is amazing.
The theater lights dim to full black and the movie begins. It becomes quickly apparent that it’s a romantic comedy. I’m glad for the generally optimistic genre known for its happy endings. Ever since Julie died, I haven’t been able to enjoy darker films.
Sitting next to Hattie as the movie rolls on, every inch of me is aware of her presence next to me. My eyes are on the silver screen, but my cells are taking intuitive stock of the woman at my side.
I’ve never smelled her before, I realize. I inhale her aroma of wildflowers and earth, feeling as if I’ll never get enough. The scent of her makes my blood hum faster through my veins and I have to ball my hands into fists to stop myself from touching her.
But then her gaze slides sideways, and her eyes find mine, reflecting the bright screen in the darkness of the theater. She gives me a half-smile, confusion creasing her brow, and my resolves fades. I take her hand in mine, closing my fingers protectively around hers, heart hammering in fear that I’ve made the wrong choice.
