Page 35 of Take The Risk

​An image of the blond woman who’d hung on Ty the night of the baseball game popped into my head. Of course, I didn’t listen to the rumor mill about Jeremy, but the one about Ty…now that lived in my head. Her name was Janelle, and they were apparently…something.

​I tried to put Ty into the box of contractor/friend, only it was becoming impossible. Watching how he treated Lock, how he worked with him on baseball, how he never once got frustrated when Lock wanted to talk or learn about construction, was the stuff that made my mommy-heart melt. I might have stood a chance of keeping a lid on the box of Ty if he weren’t, well…him. After he’d stepped in with Jeremy, protecting me, which, yes, made me feel all kinds of good things, he’d then apologized if he’d crossed a line. It was funny because I’d geared up to have a little chat about him not needing to protect me, even though I really liked how it felt when he did. But then there was everything else. We’d had to spend a lot of time together getting things ready for the final build out now the deck was almost done. We’d driven around for hours, going to surrounding small towns, searching for the right supplies, and we talked. We talked about everything and nothing.

​Ty started coming by earlier and earlier to chat with Lock before school, often bombing out to scoop Scarlette up, taking both kids to school. Somewhere in all of this, we’d developed a routine. I made breakfast, which he complained I didn’t need to do for him. So he brought me coffee, which I complained he didn’t have to do for me. He’d take the kids to school, and I used that time to make whatever calls I had to. Then he’d come back and either work on part of the house or drag me out to go find whatever we needed for it. He was infinitely patient and understanding when I couldn’t make a decision or when I spaced out going into the world of stories in my head.

​Hell, he didn’t even get mad when I brought up the possibility of changing the kitchen design to add double ovens and a few other things. He’d heard Louise and Cady-Jo mentioning they wanted to ask me to bake for the café (the cookies I’d made for the school bake sale were a smash hit), and they wanted to include them at the café.

​I was on the fence. I wasn’t sure I wanted to commit to something like that. Ty heard and immediately altered his designs, bringing them to me for approval. He encouraged me, offered to taste-test (I wasn’t sure that was entirely altruistic on his part), and was supportive in a way that made me cry.

​The real crux of the problem was I wanted him. Every day, something he did or said made me want him more, even when he screwed up and was a little overbearing, only to apologize sincerely. My body was strung so tight when he was around that I was a raw nerve. I’d finally had to buy a lightly padded bra just to make sure my visible reaction to him wasn’t noticeable by anyone. Especially his mother, who was hanging around more and more.

​So after another day of tension that was almost painful, of watching Ty essentially star in man driving porn, I wanted to be home, not dragging myself into my friend’s house where I was sure large amounts of alcohol were about to be consumed.

​Reaching the front door, I hit the doorbell.

​“COME IN!” Helen’s laughing voice filtered through the door.

​Walking in, I heard the voices of the other women and was immediately assaulted by the tantalizing smell of beef, spices, and salsa. Following the smells and sounds, I found them all cloistered in the sunken living room at the back of the house.

​“There you are!” Louise jumped up, taking the bakery boxes loaded in my arms before I dropped them.

​“Next time, Phoebe, just let yourself in.” Helen handed me a large glass of what looked like a cosmo, giving me a quick hug hello.

​“Are these?” Cady-Jo pointed at the box, a look of pure awe on her face.

​Grinning, I nodded. “You said the theme was Mexican.”

​Cady-Jo groaned, snatching up the dessert. Taking a bite, she let out a throaty moan. “This is the best churro I’ve ever had!”

​“Churro?” Helen abandoned her drink, taking one.

​I was pleased they all really liked my baking. Unfortunately, it did set off another discussion of whether I would bake for Maple Mornings, which I promised them I was thinking about. Once we all had tacos, dessert, and a second round of Cosmos—at least for me, because, okay, I downed mine like it was water—we settled in.

​The conversation flowed so easily it was hard to remember I’d only known these women a couple of months. Everything was fine until Louise got a text from her twins, who were arguing over who had to babysit the Newlands’ new baby.

​She wasn’t thrilled they’d asked her girls for the third time this week to babysit. “Even if they really do need it.”

​“You heard, too?” Cady-Jo asked, pulling her knees up, curling into the large chair that she’d claimed as hers.

​“Heard what?” I remembered meeting the Newlands at church a couple of weeks back. They were a young couple, but they seemed sweet. Stressed. What new parent wasn’t? But sweet.

​“They’ve been talking about divorce,” Helen explained, shocking me. “Oh, they’re not my clients. I heard from Gia’s mother yesterday at the market that she was worried. Gia spent a few nights at her place last week with the baby, and it didn’t seem to help.”

​“It doesn’t help they can’t usually find a babysitter. I swear, if it wasn’t for the two of you, I don’t think I’d have had any peace when the kids were young.” Cady-Jo reached out, grabbing Louise’s hand with an affectionate squeeze.

​“That’s sad.” Even though my marriage was ending, and I was glad it was, it was still sad to hear of anyone else’s marriage going in the same direction. Especially because I thought they still really loved each other.

​“It is,” Helen agreed, grabbing the pitcher and pouring another round of cosmos.

​Conversation turned to things like kids, the lack of babysitters of the teenage variety in town, and how things were changing when a thought occurred to me.

​“If there aren’t enough babysitters and parents need a break, why can’t we give them one?”

​“What do you mean?” Louise asked.

​“Well, there’s the youth night at the church,” I thought aloud, remembering Pastor Jane telling me about it when I’d arrived. She’d also mentioned how the church was looking to expand its programs. “What if one of the program expansions is a babysitting night? Like we get volunteer parents, even rope in some of the high school kids who need to get their compulsory community service hours, and offer a babysitting night once a week? People can drop their kids, including their babies, off for a few hours and then do whatever they need to do. Errands. Have a date night. An uninterrupted shower. We could turn it into a round-robin. One week, parents A, B, C, and D volunteer, overseeing everything. The next week, they’re the ones who get the night off, and the other parents then take their turn supervising. It would get the community involved because after all…it takes a village, right?”

​Silence greeted my suggestion. It lasted so long I thought maybe I’d grown two heads.