Camilla hums. “That does not sound like the man I know.”
“What do you really know about him? Is he divorced?”
“No, I don’t think so. Hold on––” She moves the phone away from her mouth. “Was Grant ever married?” she asks my brother. I catch a deep murmur in the background. “Really? That’s odd…no, that’s different, you were married.” I hear her fumble around with the phone. “Amanda?”
“Yeah?”
“Cal said he’s never been married and hasn’t ever met anyone Grant has dated. Oh, wait––” I hear more manly murmuring. “He said he doesn’t think Grant has ever dated, but that can’t be true.” Then I hear, “That can’t be true, Cal…because he’s a grown-ass man, that’s why…maybe he just doesn’t bring them around the team, which is smart of him.”
“Is he gay?”
“I don’t think so,” she answers. “Who knows? Maybe, he is. That would be tragic––for women. For gay men it would be cause for a national holiday. He’s gorgeous, isn’t he?” Then I hear, “It’s just a figure of speech, Boobear.”
“He’s alright, I guess.”
“Alright? Get your eyesight checked.” Then she mutters, “He’s hawt.”
“He could be Adonis and I wouldn’t care. I’m pretty much off the market until Sam turns fifty.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re too young to stay single.”
“It’s the price for my past.”
“When are you going to stop punishing yourself? For one thing, it’s not healthy. And second, you don’t owe your son your entire existence because you made mistakes. We all mess up to some degree. It’s our right as parents.”
Calvin’s first marriage ended badly, in divorce after his wife cheated on him. Therefore, when Camilla came along, I was feeling overly protective of him. I didn’t want to see him hurt again and being a professional athlete seems to attract the dregs of humanity. Admittedly, I came on a little strong in warning her away and I’ve since then apologized for it.
I couldn’t have been more wrong about her and I’m grateful I was because not only is she perfect for my brother, she’s also become a great friend.
“Thanks for the pep talk but I feel like I’m in a bottomless hole of debt when it comes to him.”
“I’m not saying you should get on Tinder. I’m saying find a nice guy that loves kids––or more importantly can love your kid.”
I shut that part of me down years ago. It’s a well-documented fact that I have horrible judgment when it comes to men, which is why I’ve stayed away from them for the better part of the last six years. I can’t even recall when I last went on a date.
I don’t ask for much of life. I really don’t. As long as my kid is healthy and happy, my business keeps making enough money for me to pay my bills, and Starbucks never discontinues the pumpkin spice lattes I’m good. Although I won’t deny it would be nice to have some adult fun-time once in a blue moon.
“He reminds me of that blond guy in Sex in the City,” Camilla continues, undaunted by my lack of agreement. “You know the one––the cute guy Samantha dates. What’s his name?” I hear snapping of fingers. “Smith Jarrod. Only bigger.”
“Who cares. He’s a douchebag––and gay. I just wish he’d get laid, preferably some place other than in this house. Maybe then he’d be easier to live with.”
“We’re not sure he’s gay. I’ll torture your brother for more info and let you know.”
“Don’t bother. I don’t care either way.”
“Gotcha.” Then she whispers, “I’ll let you know.”
“No, that’s not code. I really don’t need to know.”
“Mmm, I’ll get aaalll the dirty details. Totally low-key.”
“Don’t. I’m hanging up now. Whatever it is you’re up to, shut it down.”
“You bet.” Her mouth gets really close to the phone because I can hear her breathing. “I’ll text you tomorrow with the info,” she whispers. “Check your phone.”
Camilla and I may have started on the wrong foot, but we’ve been on the right one ever since.
A day later Sam and I get home from the studio by early afternoon to the sound of an argument coming from the home gym. Alarmed to hear it’s a woman speaking, I charge over, Sam fast on my heels. Fingers crossed that we don’t walk in on a lover’s quarrel.
“The team needs you to complete at least thirty hours and you’ve barely completed thirty minutes, Mr. Hendricks,” I hear her say and breathe a sigh of relief.
“Good enough.”
“I don’t see how that’s fulfilling your doctor’s protocol. The team––”
“Out.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said, get out.”
“Mr. Hendricks, I’ll have to document your lack of cooperation in my report to the team––”
“Get out! You can take your documentation and shove it.”
Glancing down, I watch Sam’s eyes get wide. I have construction problems bearing down on me. I have money problems. I have baby daddy problems and now I have to deal with this. I am not a happy camper.