Aunt Renee spilled the beans in the chat. With a grimace, I read the texts.
When are you bringing my little man over so you can go on your coffee date, Autumn? She sent the text only a minute ago and the other two ladies in the chat pile on:
Ooh, a date?
With who?
My stomach drops when Renee answers Sharon’s question regarding who this coffee date is with. The hot preschool teacher with the nice butt.
Sharon assumes wrong, typing back, Mr. Harding?
And frozen in my spot, I watch the horror story play out in real time with Renee correcting her: Nope, she snagged Trent.
Before my eyes close, I catch sight in my periphery of Henry jumping on my bed while chanting, “Date, date, date. You date Mr. Morgan. I date Renee!” His gleeful song is accompanied by the squeak of the bed frame and more vibrating in my hand from the phone.
Oh my God, kill me now.
Trent
Keeping it PG is how my buddy Harding would describe this coffee date. He’s far more experienced than I am on the dating scene and if he was here now … he’d enjoy laughing at me.
Autumn and I snagged a coveted table on the patio outside a mom-and-pop coffee and cake shop. There’s not a cloud in sight and the breeze is just right. So right that when it blows by, Autumn’s dark brunette hair sweeps across her shoulders.
Yet this date is less like a date and more like small talk between two people who are both waiting in a doctor’s office for a rectal exam. Yeah, Harding would laugh his ass off right about now.
“Our boys get along real well,” I say and take a sip of my coffee, my thumb tapping rhythmically on the edge of the generic white ceramic mug. I don’t know what it is about this woman, but I have no game whatsoever with her. Even less so this morning. Maybe I just need more coffee.
“I know, Henry talks about Chase all the time.” She mimics the way the two boys say, “best buds for life,” then lets out a small laugh. Very short and riddled with the same kind of nerves that won’t settle in my gut.
I know she already knows that the boys get along. The two of them hit it off Henry’s first day of preschool last year.
Even though I can’t manage a conversation outside of the weather, the cinnamon cake on the table, and our boys, I still think it’s going well because when that wind blows and she has to retuck her hair behind her ear, she smiles down into her latte that smells so sweet and then peeks up at me, all shy-like.
Maybe I’m not the only one affected.
“So you took over the preschool from your mom?” Autumn asks. The conversation is still steadily in the category of small talk.
“Don’t tell her that,” I joke with a huff of laughter. “She still says it’s hers.”
That gets a broader smile from Autumn. “I mean, her name is on it. So … Ann’s ABCs and123s Preschool.”
“Well, she would kill me if I change the name.” Again she smiles and lets out a small laugh. I know this small town likes to talk, but I have no idea what all she knows about my past. “I have my master’s in education but I never thought I’d run a preschool. That was my mom’s thing.”
“A master’s?” she asks and doesn’t hide the surprise. “I almost went back for mine before I got the editor position.”
“You like that? Working for the town paper?” I could see Autumn doing anything at all. She’s personable and charming, but smart and driven. It doesn’t take more than a handful of conversation to know that.
“Well, like you, I never thought I’d be an editor. I was always a math and science kind of girl, but I love it. I wouldn’t change a thing.”
It’s easy to smile at her response. Everything between us is easy all of a sudden and I’m grateful for that.
“What were you going to do with your master’s?” she says.
Shrugging, I admit, “Administration of some sort was the long-term goal. But when Chase was born and his mom passed, I wanted to be more hands on. I had to be, really. With my mom’s vision going … it just made sense to take over the preschool and be close to him.”
Autumn’s tone holds her condolences. “I’m so sorry to hear about her passing.”
“Thank you,” I reply automatically. It’s been years since I said goodbye to my ex-wife, but my throat still gets dry whenever she comes up in conversation.
“Does Chase ever talk about her?” Her question catches me off guard but it’s the genuine concern that resonates with me.
“Occasionally. He has some questions, but he’s still so young and never knew her.”