When's the last time I went on a date with a man just for the hell of it?
But I can't do that. It could go against the adoption board's assessment. They'll be asking me about my dating history, especially as a single mom. They want to make sure there won't be strange men in and out of the house.
Whatever needs I have, they have to come second to my daughter.
"Sorry, Amos. I don't date. It's not going to happen."
"It's not going to happenyet."
His arrogance is infuriating yet also intriguing.
"Do you want me to put on your file that not only are you pushy and arrogant, but you're also a player?"
He chuckles, a deep throaty rumble.
"I'm not a player, Alana. I'm a man of action. When I see a good thing, I go for it. But I get it. You don't know me. You have to think of the boy. But just know, whenever you're ready, I'm taking you out for dinner."
He signs off and I'm left gripping the phone, my heart thumping and my stomach fluttering as I think about the sacrifices you make for your kids.
8
AMOS
Sunshine glints off the metallic slide of the playground nestled in the corner of Diddington Park. I pace nervously as I wait for Alana and Sam to arrive.
I'm not sure who I'm more nervous to see. Alana rejected me, and I'm not used to that. But I can't shake my attraction to her.
Dad stands to attention behind Mom who's seated on a park bench wringing her hands, the only sign that she's as nervous as I am. Avery is on her own. I wonder if she deliberately left Ed at home, not wanting to scare the boy with Ed's jaunty scar and inability to speak. Me and Dad will be scary enough.
A beat-up Honda pulls up to the edge of the playground, and Alana climbs out of the driver's seat. My breath hitches at the sight of her. She wears her hair pulled back in a ponytail, showing her round cheeks and full lips. She's dressed casually in yoga pants and a sweater that hangs over her frame, hiding the figure beneath. Damn, it's a bad time to be attracted to a woman, but I've never felt anything like the pull I feel toward Alana.
I drag my eyes away from her to the small figure climbing out of the backseat. Mom stands up, and we all turn to watch Sam arrive.
The boy is small with skinny legs poking out of a pair of shorts. His blonde hair hangs around his face, and his eyes dart every which way.
Mom gasps, and I don't blame her. It's like Jake coming back to life in his childhood form.
But this isn't Jake, I remind myself. This is Sam. A different child.
Alana stops in front of us, and Sam waits a step behind her. He tucks himself behind Alana and eyes us warily.
She crouches down, so she's at his eye level. "Sam, this is the family I was telling you about. This is your father's family."
He peers up at us, and my heart breaks at the distrust on his face.
Mom steps forward. "Hi, Sam. I'm your grandmother."
The boy turns to Alana, looking confused.
"It's okay, honey," says Mom. "If you're not comfortable calling me that yet, you can call me Shona. Or you can call me Nanna."
She approaches him with tears in her eyes. "You look so much like your daddy. May I give you a hug?"
He looks to Alana and gives him a nod. "If that's what you want, Sam."
Shona doesn't wait for him to consent; she pulls him close. The little boy is stiff in her arms, and Mom pulls back.
"If we'd known about you, honey, we would have met you a long time ago. I'm so sorry about what happened to your momma."
