I wasn't the only single parent in this apartment complex. Andrew's mom was widowed. Noelle's mom was divorced. I wasn't sure on Benji and Emily's family situations. But it occurred to me that all the kids who lived in the other building were onlys. No wonder they ran together in a pack.
So what did Andrew's mom do when Andrew got sick and she needed medicine? Or Noelle's mom when she had to work late? Did they have someone in their lives to rely on? Or were they like me, slogging away, day to day, acting as if they could do it all?
Maybe we all needed a little help.
Gabriel and Gejel had reached out to me and I'd been embarrassingly self-assured that I didn't need help. I was used to dealing with whatever life threw at us; it was me and Calder against the world.
But it didn't have to be that way.
My child and I would both be better off if it wasn't that way.
Things change. People change. It's time for you to change, Rowan.
I grabbed my cell and called Nicolai's parents before I talked myself out of it.
"Hey, Gejel, it's Rowan Michaels. Yes. He's much better." I laughed. "Like he'd never even been sick. I know, right? Anyway, thank you for having him over Friday night. I've been thinking about a couple of things I'd like to run past you and Gabriel." I glanced at the clock. "Twenty minutes is perfect. Calder will be thrilled to get some fresh air. Okay. See you in a bit."
After I ended the call, I said, "Get your suit on," to Calder. "We're meeting Nicolai and his family at the pool."
His face lit up. "For real?"
"For real."
He whooped and danced around.
Yep. The kid was definitely feeling better.
• • •
Sunday evening, after I'd fortified myself with a glass of wine, I texted Jensen.
Me: I hope your weekend got better. We missed you.
Me: I missed you.
Me: I wondered if we could talk? Early tomorrow night? Over dinner?
Me: I'll cook. Send me your dietary restrictions if there are any.
Me: I really missed you.
He didn't respond for nearly fifteen minutes.
JL: Dinner sounds good. No restrictions. What should I bring?
I started to type condoms, but backspaced over it.
Me: Just bring yourself
JL: Should I bring Harry Potter so C and I can catch up? We've missed a few nights.
Me: No Calder. Just us tomorrow night.
I watched the typing text message icon start and stop. Start and stop. Start and stop. Then I received:
JL: Okay. Be there at 6
• • •
Of course I was running late on a Monday.
I hadn't gotten home until five fifteen. I loaded up Calder's overnight bag-this time including Pepto-Bismol for if his stomach got wonky-and we walked over to Nicolai's.
I'd worked out a swap with Gabriel and Gejel. Calder stayed with them tonight and Nicolai would stay over with us Friday night, allowing his parents to celebrate their anniversary at a B&B up north.
This babysitting co-op thing might end up being a sanity saver for everyone.
I didn't get back to my floor until five fifty-five. Too late to throw the lasagna in the oven, so I'd have to go to plan B.
It'd become a habit as I moved about the training center to spin my keys on my finger until the metal hit my palm, then spin them back out. An annoying habit, I'd been told, but one that I couldn't break even when I wasn't at the gym. I spun my keys in the elevator.
Smack. Jingle. Smack. Jingle.
I continued to spin them as I exited the elevator and turned the corner on the second floor.
The smack, jingle, smack, jingle caught Jensen's attention, and he turned to face me.
My heart zoomed from zero to two hundred in those four long seconds we stared at each other.
With the way he'd slung his equipment bag over his shoulder, the strap pulled his shirt taut so the fabric clung to every muscle in his back and his arm.
Oh, how I've missed you, you sexy beast.
Of course, I didn't say that. I waited for him to say something first.
But why? Doesn't he always make the first move?
Not always. You're usually the first one to retreat.
I internally cringed because that was true.
Jensen's eyes remained on me as I closed the distance between us. I tried not to fidget even when I knew I looked like a trainwreck. No makeup, my hair pulled back in a stubby ponytail, wearing my usual work uniform: maroon athletic pants sporting the U of M logo, and a too-tight gold workout top with a compression bra that squished my boobs flat. Not exactly the date-night attire I'd prepared to wow him with.
"Hey. I'm running behind."
"That's fine. Practice ended late anyway." Then he took two steps toward his door.
Two hitching steps that put a grimace on his face.