Laughing, I try to decide whether to segue that little Landry opening to who sent the flowers or not. Hux decides for me.
“It wasn’t Lincoln, was it? That sent those?”
“No,” I say carefully. “But you know his brother? The mayor?”
He nods, opening a string cheese.
“He sent them to me.”
“The one that can’t play baseball?”
“Yes,” I giggle. “The one that can’t play baseball.”
Huxley shrugs like the ten-year-old boy eating string cheese that he is. “Well, at least he has a cool brother, I guess.”
I walk across the room and give him a giant hug. “He’s pretty cool, too, I think.”
“Is he your boyfriend now?”
“No, nothing like that. We’re just friends. Seeing if we like each other.”
He peers up at me through his long lashes. There are spatters of dirt mixed in with the freckles that span the bridge of his nose. “He’ll like you, Mom. Why wouldn’t he?”
“Who knows,” I smile. “But how do you feel about that? If a man would come around sometimes. Would that bother you?”
He chews the last bite and drops his wrapper in the trash. “No, I guess not.” He looks at the ground before pulling his eyes to mine, hesitation swimming in them. “I don’t say this because I think it might hurt your feelings and I don’t mean it like that, Mom. But I miss having a dad. I miss doing boy stuff with a real guy. Not that you aren’t the best—”
I pull him into me before he can finish. I know what he’s going to say and I want to spare him the pain of saying it . . . and of me having to hear it.
“Mom, you’re squishing me,” he says, his voice muffled. He pulls back and looks into my eyes. “I’m going to Grandma’s tonight, right?”
I nod, fighting back tears. “If you want to.”
“I do. She’s getting Grandpa’s old guitar out and we’re going to see if we can play it.”
“She should be here soon. You better go get ready.”
He takes off, but stops suddenly and faces me at the threshold. “Mom?”
“Yeah, buddy?”
“You are the best. And I’m old enough to know that grownups like to be together sometimes. It’s been just me and you for a long time, but I think it’s okay if you have a friend. Even if it’s a boyfriend that doesn’t like baseball.”
All I can do is smile. He watches me closely, nods, and zooms up the stairs.
Barrett
I yank my tie from around my neck and send it flying across the bedroom. It lands across a lampshade and dangles there, like it’s going to fall off but doesn’t.
After an afternoon of more meetings and a conference with my father who not-so-subtly told me I’m a fucking idiot if I don’t lock in Monroe immediately, I finally made it home.
I’ve always liked my space, having time alone. Being from a large family, time without interruptions was always a luxury and it’s something I’ve protected since I moved out for college. Living alone was non-negotiable. I never lived with girlfriends, never entertained the idea, no matter how many times they suggested it. Privacy equals sanity, quiet means peace. Until tonight. Now it just feels lonely.
My phone buzzes with a text. I pick it up to see Alison’s name on the screen. I feel the stress melt away as I open the app, just like it does every time she sends me a message. They aren’t pushy, aren’t prodding. They just make me laugh or feel good, and I’ve never had an interaction with a woman like this.
Alison: Of course I’m still thinking of you. How could I not be?
Me: I’ll send flowers every day if it keeps me on your mind.