The Dating Series

by L. P. Dover

  I stand and nod for him to follow me. “Yes. These prints are exactly the kind of things I’ve been looking for. What I’d like to do is get larger sizes printed. All you have to do is send me the files, and I’ll handle it. In the meantime, we can let my customers get a taste of what’s in store for the showcase. You okay with that?”

  He lifts his hands in the air. “Sure, why not? Let’s do it.”

  Excitement bubbles in my veins. “I’ve been prepared for this moment for what feels like an eternity. I have some really nice wooden frames in my storage room. Come on.” He follows me into the storage room, and I secure the two pictures in their own frames. I hold up the one with the boat. “This one will go quickly once we get it in a larger print.”

  We walk out of the storage room and back into the gallery. “Do you honestly think people will want to buy my stuff?”

  “Yes,” I say, gawking at him like he’s crazy for even questioning it. “You are a talented photographer.”

  He shrugs and turns his attention to my paintings. “It’s just a hobby I picked up after my wife died. Guess you can say it helped me in ways I never thought it could.”

  “Art can do that,” I murmur as I stand next to him.

  His eyes narrow at the initials in the bottom right-hand corner of my cabin by the lake painting. “Is that a B and a W?” When all I do is smile at him, he focuses back on the painting and laughs. “This is one of yours, isn’t it?”

  “Yep.” I flourish a hand throughout the room. “Almost all of them are.”

  Watching him admire my paintings makes me feel pride in my work. He stops at another one of my Sugar Mountain paintings and points at it. The top of the mountain is covered in snow, but the rest of the painting is set in the fall with orange, red, and yellow leaves as if they’re fluttering in the wind.

  “This is my favorite,” he states, standing back from it with his arms crossed. “I’ve seen it look exactly like this when I went out hiking many years ago.”

  His words make me smile. “Same. I can see it all as if it was yesterday.”

  He stands next to me and bumps me with his shoulder. “You’re amazing, Bree. Have you ever tried selling your work to bigger galleries?”

  I shrug. “It’s crossed my mind, but I’m happy with having my work here. If it’s meant to be, it’ll be.”

  The bell on my door dings, and Lindy walks in. When she sees us, she stops mid-step and gasps. “Oh, hey. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  I wave her off. “You didn’t interrupt us, Lindy. You remember Caleb, right?”

  She holds out her arms and snorts. “How could I forget the guy who nicknamed me loudmouth? Come here and hug me. It’s been a long time.” He hugs her, and they both laugh.

  “Yes, it has,” Caleb replies. “You doing okay?”

  Lindy beams. “Can’t complain. I got a husband and a little girl now.”

  Caleb nods. “I have a little girl myself. They can be quite the handful.”

  “Yes, they can,” I agree with a laugh. “Lindy’s little girl is wild.”

  Caleb smiles at us both but then focuses on me. “Well, let me get out of your way. I’ll see you tonight.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Lindy’s mouth gape, but I don’t acknowledge it. “What does Alyssa like to eat?” I ask.

  “Anything as long as it has cheese in it,” he answers.

  I wink. “I think I can handle that.”

  “All right. I’ll see you later.” He smiles at Lindy. “It was nice seeing you again.”

  Lindy grins back. “Same to you.”

  Caleb glances at me one more time before making his way to the door. I know what’s going to happen the second he walks out. When the door shuts behind him, I close my hands over my ears just as Lindy squeals. Caleb’s right. She is a loudmouth.

  “Oh my God, you have a date!”

  I watch him get in his car and drive away, but there is that butterfly feeling in my stomach. “It’s not a date,” I say, wishing in all reality that it was.

  Lindy snickers. “Okay, so maybe his daughter will be with you guys, but I could see it in his eyes. He’s attracted to you.”

  I wave her off. “No, he’s not. It’s just a business deal. He’s going to design my gallery’s website, and as payment, he wants me to cook him and his daughter dinner. Besides, I’m sure he’s still sad about his wife. Dating is the last thing on his mind.”

  “Maybe, maybe not.” She places a hand on my shoulder. “You might just be what the man needs.”

  I don’t know what it’s like to lose a loved one to tragedy. I’m sure it puts a hole in your heart. Whatever happens, I’m not going to rush it.

  It’s still raining by the time I close up the gallery, so there won’t be any Santa visits. I run home to grab my chicken breasts out of the refrigerator and the sides I planned on cooking for myself. It turns out mac and cheese was already on the menu, so that should make Alyssa happy. I’ll be sure to add extra cheese to it.

  When I pull into the driveway, Caleb walks out with an umbrella. “Hey,” he calls out, holding it over my head as I get out of the car. “Need help with the groceries?”

  “Sure. They’re in the back.” I open the backseat door, and he takes one bag while I take the other. “Thank you for coming out to help me.”

  I hurry inside, but he stays on the porch and shakes out the umbrella. “You’re welcome. Just trying to be a gentleman.”

  I snort. “I wish all men were like that. My ex would’ve stayed on the front porch and laughed while I got wet.”

  Caleb walks inside and shuts the door. “What a dirtbag.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I already got out a pan and the two pots you requested in your earlier text.” He nods toward the kitchen. “Come on. I’ll show you to the kitchen.” When I turn to get a good look at his living room, I freeze. There are boxes everywhere, the new couch still has the plastic covering on it, and there isn’t a Christmas tree.

  “Oh, Caleb, this is awful.”

  He comes up beside me and runs a hand through his hair with a sigh. “I know. It’s been hard to find motivation.” He takes my bag of food, and I follow him into the kitchen.

  “The boxes will get emptied in time, but you have to get a Christmas tree.”

  “Yes,” Alyssa squeals, appearing around the corner. “A Christmas tree!”

  Caleb places his hands on the counter and sighs again. “Uh-oh, I’m in trouble now. Two against one.”

  I shrug and smile. “I had mine up the second week of November. If I had my way, it’d be Christmas all year long at my house.”

  He throws his hands up in the air, trying his best not to smile. “Fine. Alyssa and I will get a tree tomorrow. How does that sound?” he asks her.

  Alyssa bounces up and down on her feet. “Yay. Can Bree help decorate with us?”

  Caleb turns to me and lifts his brows. “Well, I don’t know. Bree might be busy tomorrow.”

  Alyssa clasps her hands together, pursing her lips in a pouty way. “Please, Bree. Daddy doesn’t know how to decorate.”

  “Hey,” Caleb calls out. “That’s not nice.”

  Bree and I both giggle. “I tell you what,” I say, bending down to tap her on the nose, “I’ll come over right after I’m done with Santa. Maybe when we’re halfway done with the tree, we can bake some cookies?”

  Her eyes widen. “Chocolate chip?”

  “Whatever you want, pretty girl.”

  She dances around and runs back down the hallway. Caleb chuckles and shakes his head. “You’re spoiling her, Bree. First, extra candy canes and now a Christmas tree and cookies?”

  I shrug. “She deserves it.”

  “That she does,” he agrees. “She’s been through a lot.”

  He slides the pan I need over to me, and I put the chicken in it. “Hopefully, I’m not putting you out. I have an artificial tree you can use if you don’t have the time to find one.” I turn the oven on and slide
the pan of chicken inside.

  Caleb shakes his head. “It’s okay. I want to find a tree with Alyssa.”

  “Good. We’ll have fun decorating it. I’ll bring over some of my ornaments. I have a ton of them.” I might have a habit of buying new ornaments every year. Every time I see one I like, I buy it. My poor tree can’t hold them all; that’s why I bought an extra one a couple of weeks ago, only I haven’t put it up yet.

  Caleb moves out of the way to run water into one of the pots for the pasta. “Thanks, Bree. This means a lot.”

  “Happy to help.”

  “Daddy, do you and Bree want to play tea party with me?” Alyssa calls out, her voice echoing down the hallway.

  Caleb looks at me and smiles. “What do you say?”

  “Sounds like fun. Let me get the macaroni and cheese started, and I’ll be free.”

  After I finish getting everything started for dinner, I join Caleb in Alyssa’s bedroom for tea. We all three sit at her tiny table with pretend plastic food on our plates. Watching Caleb play along with Alyssa makes my heart melt. It makes me wish I had my own family.

  The timer on the oven buzzes about thirty minutes later, and I leave them to finish up dinner. I pull the BBQ chicken out of the oven and add plenty of extra cheese to the macaroni. All that’s left are the fresh green beans my grandmother canned last year. Once those are heated up, dinner is made.

  “Dinner’s ready,” I shout.

  Caleb already had three plates pulled out of the cabinet, so I scoop out a small portion of food onto Alyssa’s plate, making sure to give her extra mac and cheese.

  I set her plate on the kitchen table, and she rushes over to it. “Yummy. I love cheesy macaroni.”

  Caleb joins me and takes in a deep breath. “Everything smells fantastic.”

  I hand him a plate. “Dig in.”

  He shakes his head. “You go first.” Pursing my lips, I stare him down, but he backs away and crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m not getting my food until you get yours. We can stand here all night.”

  I have no doubt he’d do that too. “Fine. I’ll get mine.” I fill up my plate and take a seat at their small, round kitchen table while he sits to my right. Alyssa digs into her food and eats all the mac and cheese first. She even eats all of her green beans, which shocks Caleb.

  “Wow. That’s a first. She usually doesn’t eat green beans.”

  Alyssa shrugs. “They taste good.”

  “That’s because my grandmother canned them,” I confess. “She was the best cook in my family.”

  Alyssa looks up at me. “She needs to make more.”

  I’d give anything for her to be able to make more. “I wish she could, pretty girl, but she passed away last year. I have her recipe, though, so I might have to give it a try.”

  Her little smile turns sad. “Is she in heaven with my momma?”

  “I’m sure she is.”

  We finish dinner, and Caleb takes her empty plate. “Why don’t you go get ready for a bath while Bree and I clean the kitchen.”

  “Okay.” She slides out of her chair and starts down the hall, but then stops. “Can I have a treat when I get done?”

  Caleb chuckles. “Sure, why not. I think there’s still a couple of chocolate truffles Nana brought over the other day.” She races off down the hall and squeals. “Do you need me to wash your hair?” My heart skips a beat hearing him say that. He’s such a good dad.

  Alyssa yells back. “No. I’m a big girl now. I can do it.”

  Caleb shakes his head and laughs. “Yep. She’s eight going on thirty.”

  We gather all the dishes and set them in the sink. I fill my side with soapy water and start washing them. Caleb takes them from me and rinses them off before placing them on the drying towel.

  Caleb looks over at me, his brown eyes boring into mine. “Thanks for cooking dinner tonight. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this happy having someone else around, someone I can talk to.”

  “You don’t have to thank me. I enjoy hanging out with you and Alyssa. She’s such a sweet girl.” I elbow him in the side. “You’re not so bad either.”

  We finish the dishes just about the time Alyssa comes running into the kitchen with her hair wrapped partially in a towel and dressed in her pink pajamas. I grab my car keys off the counter and kneel to her level. “I had fun tonight, Alyssa.”

  “Are you leaving?”

  I nod. “It’s getting late, and I know you have to get to bed early for school.”

  She flings her arms open. “I can’t wait to decorate tomorrow.”

  I hug her tight, and she smells like peach-scented soap. “Me too. I’ll bring my grandmother’s chocolate chip cookie recipe.”

  “Okay.” She lets me go, and Caleb hands her two chocolate truffles. She runs over to the couch where he already has on her cartoons.

  “Want me to walk you out?” he asks.

  My heart skips a beat, and I suck in a breath. “If you want to.”

  “Honey, I’ll be right back,” he says to Alyssa. He opens the front door, and we walk out onto the porch. The rain has stopped, and the cold front has moved in. If it were this cold earlier, the rain would’ve been snow. I stand facing him, and he takes a step closer. “I’ll have the files emailed to you tonight.”

  “Perfect. I want to get them printed and framed as soon as possible. I’m tempted to put some out, but in a way, I want to save them for the showcase.”

  He shrugs. “I’m good with whatever you want to do. Hopefully, people won’t hate them.”

  “They will love them, Caleb. That I can promise you.”

  His eyes search mine, and I hold my breath. There’s tension between us, but it’s a good feeling. In a way, I feel like I’m back in high school on a first date, waiting to be kissed. Caleb moves closer, and I’m still holding my breath. Are we ready for this step? The better question is … is he ready?

  Our lips touch ever so lightly, and his warmth seeps into me. There’s no tongue, no deepening of the kiss. Caleb slowly steps back and smiles. “Goodnight, Bree. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “See ya then.”

  He stays out on the porch until I get into my car and back out of his driveway. I don’t know what I’m getting myself into, but it feels right.

  Six

  Caleb

  I stay on the porch until I can’t see Bree’s taillights. My mind is spinning. My heart is racing. For the first time since I met my wife, I’ve kissed another woman. Every voice in my head . . . believe me there are many. . . tell me what I’ve done is wrong, that I’m somehow tarnishing the memory of my wife, our marriage, and the vows we took. But my heart is saying I’m right. It’s healthy to move on and not wallow in what I can’t fix. If the roles were reversed, I’d want my wife to move on, to find a suitable man who could be a father to Alyssa. If I have learned anything over the last year, it’s that life is too short to watch it from the sideline or your rear-view mirror.

  After checking on Alyssa and finding her snuggled on the couch with her bear and eyes focused on her cartoon, I head back into the kitchen and pull my phone out to call my mom. It’s not that I need her approval, but maybe advice.

  “I’m spoon deep in peppermint ice cream, so if you need me to come over, you’ll have to wait.”

  “No worries, Mom. I just wanted to talk to you about something.”

  “Your date with Bree?”

  “It wasn’t a date.” Was it?

  “Caleb, you invited a woman to your house to cook you and your daughter dinner. A woman, I might add, who you haven’t seen or spoken to since high school, who you didn’t date, and who you just became reacquainted with yesterday. You may not realize it, but subconsciously this was a test to see how Alyssa would react to another woman being around you, in your home, and with her. Am I right?”

  “Maybe,” I mutter. “What if I wanted a homecooked meal?” I counter with.

  My mom laughs. “Then you would’ve been here at six f
or dinner. Nice try, buddy.” There’s a pause, and I hear her spoon clanking against her bowl. Now, I want ice cream and wonder if I have any in the freezer. “So, tell me, how was dinner?”

  “Amazing.”

  “And the company?”

  “Amazing,” I say again.

  “You need a thesaurus. Maybe Santa will bring you one for Christmas.”

  “Okay, enough harping on my choice of words.”

  Mom sighs. “Fine, tell me what’s on your mind.”

  I inhale deeply and think about my life. When I try to picture my future, I see Alyssa. She’s there, smiling. She’s happy and always laughing. She’s not the sad little girl who cried herself to sleep for the first six months after her mom died or the child who refused to talk to a therapist until the bear arrived and then finally opened up. Behind her, in this montage of images, is Bree. We’re holding hands and her belly is round, filled with our child.

  “Caleb?”

  “Do you remember the first time you met Bree?” I ask my mom. “She had come over; I think it was our junior year. We were partners on a social studies assignment. I remember how she wasn’t nervous. She didn’t try to flirt or suggest we study in my room like other girls had.”

  “Ugh,” my mom groans, and I smile.

  “My friendship with her was effortless. I was going to ask her to prom that year, but someone beat me to it. I thought the summer would change things, and then we started our senior year. She had a boyfriend, and I was just there, in the background. I wonder why I didn’t push harder?”

  “Because you needed to find yourself first.”

  “Am I lost?” I ask her.

  “No,” she says. “To find yourself doesn’t mean you were lost or are lost. You had to grow, experience life. Unfortunately for you, you’ve experienced one of the worst heartaches ever. You lost your wife. In a way, you can never get her back. The pain and hurt you’ve been through are meant to make you stronger. Before, when you looked at life, you saw your cup almost empty. Now, you embrace each day and see yourself with an almost full cup. You owe it to yourself to be happy. To make Alyssa happy. And if Bree is the person that brings a smile to your face, explore it. Don’t let some arbitrary rule of a mourning period tell you otherwise.”