Page 3 of Scouting the Single Dad

Me:

Sooooo . . . How much do you love me?

Ugh, too needy.

Plus, she barely knows me. Not really. We crossed paths because we were both dumb enough to get suckered into volunteering at the same committee meeting last year, and I suspect she only participated because at the time she was dating the mayor’s son, Tim.

That man is a drip, by the way. The kind of dude who wears tweed blazers and brags about his collection of craft beers and the lame trip to Jamaica he took ten years ago.

I delete the last message, thumb hovering.

Me:

Quick question: How would you feel about sending your hubby to Star Lake to judge the chili cookoff so my Fall Fest attendance numbers are through the roof?

Delete.

Too desperate.

Me:

Hey stranger, how is life treating you?! We miss you here, btw . . .

Annabelle:

Life is good—Cannot Complain. And Callum and I are thinking about coming home for a long weekend before his season starts. He has two weeks left before their first pre-season game.

Me:

Everyone would Love that. How long has it been since you’ve been back?

Annabelle:

Honestly? Too long. I wanted to sneak home about a month ago for my mom’s birthday, but that didn’t happen.

Annabelle:

How have You been? Quiet and chill as usual?

This is perfect. She walked right into my trap, and I didn’t have to mention Star Lake.

Me:

Things are good! Totally fine! Thriving, really. Except I’m actually not?? Your girl has been promoted. Guess who’s running Fall Fest. Hint: Not You.

Do I sound like I’m panicking?

Annabelle:

Omg!!! Wow, Layla! Congrats!! You’ll kill it.

I do not want her praise—I want her help!

Me:

No. You killed it. I’m already in a straight up panic . . .

Annabelle: