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“I think my biggest worry is, will the pound have a dog named Rose?”Hurray, she’s teasing me again!
“Or will we have to settle on a three-legged mutt with bad breath named Rufus?”
She groans playfully. “Rufus will be a farter, for sure.”
“And he’ll eat our garbage.”
Sammy nods her head up and down. “We might have to get a hamster if there’s no Rose. That’s so sad.” And then like a switch gets flipped, Sammy’s eyes fill with tears. Her moods shift faster than a race car in the Indy 500.
“You’re not crying about Rose, are you?”
She shakes her head. “I’m just full of a lot of feelings right now, you know?”
“I’m full of feelings too,” I tell her. “That’s why I suggest we take it one day at a time and put all thoughts of the future on the back burner. What do you think about that?”
I feel the dampness of her tears as they soak into my shirt. “That sounds like a plan, Dad.”
Parenting is a lot of hard work, but single parenting is a real killer. For some reason, Melissa’s face pops into my head and I have to force it away. It’s one thing to put myself into a position of vulnerability, but Sammy has been through enough.
CHAPTERNINE
MELISSA
I forgot Anna was stopping by at closing time. The last thing I want to do is look at some Catch.com profile she’s made for me. As such, I offer a non-enthusiastic wave. “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself.” She strides across the shop floor and puts her laptop down on the counter. “Where do you want to do this?”
“Saturn?” That would happily put off the inevitable.
She motions toward the seating area surrounding the raised platform where future brides model dresses for their friends and family. “Let’s sit there.”
I follow behind, feeling like a lamb on its way to slaughter. “I don’t believe in dating apps,” I tell her for the thousandth time.
“There are dating apps, and then there are hook-up apps. Catch is considered the most respectable site for finding partners who are serious about wanting to make a commitment.” She sounds like a radio advertisement. Sitting down on one of the overstuffed chairs, she types away on her laptop before handing it to me.
I pull up a chair next to her before taking it. The main profile picture is one I’ve never seen before. I’ve got my head back and I’m laughing in pure joy at something. The sun is beating down on me, emphasizing the golden highlights in my hair. I look positively ethereal. “Where did you get this picture?”
“I took it last month when we went out for lunch at that new pho place. Aren’t you gorgeous?”
I nod my head slowly. “Surprisingly so. That’s certainly not how I look on your average Wednesday.”
“Only because you don’t smile like you used to.” She arches an eyebrow at me in challenge. She’s not wrong.
I continue to read down the page. “You have me listed as a bridal consultant.”
“There aren’t that many wedding dress shops in the area, and I don’t want guys you aren’t interested in trying to find you.”
“Smart, thank you.” I keep reading. All the basics are there—my age, marital history, occupation. When I come to my list of hobbies, I laugh out loud. “Rom-com lover, dreamer, pizza fanatic, championship paddleboarding wanna-be … You made me sound frivolous.”
“What did you want me to put? Calculus lover, string theory expert, nuclear fusion enthusiast?” She jabs a finger at the screen. “You don’t want to lie. You want to meet someone you’ll match with.”
I sigh loudly. “At least you didn’t say I like to take long walks on the beach …”
“Oh, but I did,” she interrupts. “It’s right after the part saying you’ve watched the entireTed Lassoseries six times through.”
“Only five,” I correct her.
“That’s because you haven’t finished the sixth time yet.” Sometimes I hate that my friends know me so well.
