Chapter 7
7
Thursday, July 3rd
R eading the note for maybe the twentieth time, I don’t know what to do.
Sleeping on it didn’t help either.
Do I go out with the firefighter?
I wish I didn’t feel so skeptical.
Pay for the babysitter?
Maybe he has a single mom kink.
This is some experienced single-mom flirting.
Don’t be so jaded.
Nicholas could have coached him at the bar yesterday.
It’s really thoughtful to think about that.
Little does he know I’m going to be child-free for a couple of nights.
I stare at the note, eating another truffle from the box of chocolates that were in the bag.
My mind flashes to the dates I’ve been on since the divorce.
One guy had an intense timeline for marriage and kids.
Who knows if I’ll ever do that again, marriage and more kids.
Most days, I’m too overwhelmed to even remember to eat, let alone add more responsibility to my life.
Tonight, I’ll be both child-free and not working.
I can’t remember the last time the stars aligned like that.
So, it’s a choice between reading a book in the bathtub or a date with a hot firefighter.
The safe option or the risky one.
I’ve never gone for a Captain-America-looking guy before.
Blond hair, blue eyes, military, and named Jake.
How unoriginal.
Not that my red hair, blue eyes, girl named Claire, Chicago suburban, Irish self is all that original.
Jake’s nothing like the guys I typically go for.
For whatever reason, guys with accents have always been my weakness.
Especially guys born outside of the States.
My ex’s voice always did make me melt—before everything fell apart, anyway.
What’s the worst that could happen?
The date sucks, and I leave.
No harm done.
Marriage changed me.
I used to be an eternal optimist.
But now …
I’m more cautious.
Maybe it’s time to lower my defenses just a little.
Just for tonight.
Fuck it .
If he can take me out tonight, he gets a date.
If he can’t, then he won’t.
Claire Moore
Thank you for the chocolates and stuffed animal.
It was very sweet.
You can take me out to dinner tonight.
I giggle when I see how fast I get a response.
Jake the Firefighter
Tonight.
Perfect.
I’d like to pick you up at seven and take you to La Nonna.
Now that’s a first date.
The most expensive restaurant in town.
On a holiday weekend …
there’s no way we can get a table.
Claire Moore
You sure you can get a reservation on such short notice?
Jake the Firefighter
Positive.
If you want to do that, we’ll do that.
We can go anywhere you want, but I’m hoping you let me take you to the nicest place in town.
Stop smiling!
Although this is sounding more exciting than my book and bath by the minute.
Claire Moore
La Nonna it is.
And no babysitter necessary.
My daughter will be with her dad for the weekend.
Please don’t cancel at the last minute, I beg the universe.
But I doubt he’d miss the chance to parade her around like a trophy at his brother-in-law’s lake house nearby on Delavan Lake.
He’ll have a full weekend of everyone telling him how great of a father he is and how much of a bitch I am for leaving Chicago and petitioning for primary custody.
It’s fine.
In this small town, she can have a normal childhood where preschool isn’t tens of thousands of dollars and where you can walk on the sidewalk without having to look over your shoulder.
It’s what’s best for her, and it’s also what’s best for me.
There was no reason for me to stay in the city once we were done.
Honestly, I don’t know where we’ll be in five years, but Lake Geneva is good for now.
My phone buzzes with a call from Jake, surprising me.
Wait.
Why is Jake calling me?
I look at Gabby playing with her new stuffed animal on the living room floor and make my way to the kitchen.
“Hi,” I answer, sounding more nervous than I’d like.
“Hey. How are you doing after yesterday?” His voice is sexier than I remember, and it’s messing with me.
“Fine.”
“It’s okay to say the fire was scary.”
“It was scary.” I giggle, surprising myself with that noise.
“I’m really looking forward to tonight.”
“Is this, like, your thing … picking up girls you meet on the scene?”
He chuckles.
“There’s never been anyone as beautiful as you.” I roll my eyes, but a smile tugs at my lips.
“That’s not a line,” he says into the silence.
“Is seven good, or what time do you want me to pick you up?”
“Wouldn’t table availability dictate that?”
“There are perks to my job. The owners of La Nonna treat me like a king ever since we put out a kitchen fire a while back. If I call them, they’ll give us a table whenever we want.”
I guess he always makes friends on the scene then.
It’s cute.
“Let’s do six. I’m an early bird.”
“Six. I can’t wait to see you in a less stressful environment.”
I’m smiling too much in agreement.
“See you there.”
“There? No. Let me pick you up. Text me your address.”
“Okay,” I relent with no sass.
I should have put up more of a protest there, but whatever.
Captain America is picking me up now.
He probably drives a truck and will be wearing cowboy boots.
I really hope neither are true.
I hang up after giving him my address and saying our goodbyes.
Opening the fridge, I blankly stare at it.
What am I doing , getting excited about a date with a guy who probably has toxic masculinity seeping from his pores?
A military guy who’s now a firefighter, a far cry from the entrepreneurs and WASPy finance guys I usually go for.
Not that those guys have worked out well for me.
I shouldn’t judge Jake so hard.
My gut doesn’t get bad vibes.
Lower the guard, I remind myself.
Looking at my phone, it’s almost time for my ex to pick up Gabby.
I try to push aside the anxiety that always builds as his arrival gets closer.
After checking for the fourth time that she has everything she needs, I feel confident I didn’t forget to pack anything.
“Lista?” I ask, looking down at her.
Her dad is only a couple of minutes away.
“Si, mama,” she says, excited.
She’s always excited to see her dad.
I don’t want to put my feelings toward him on her.
“Bueno.”
My ex isn’t the worst human on the planet.
Every time I speak Spanish, I think about the early days of our relationship.
Him wooing me.
I’d never met someone from Argentina before.
He was so smooth, so captivating.
But he can’t keep it in his fucking pants.
At first, I brushed it off—cultural differences, monogamy is a patriarchal concept anyways.
I mean our marriage was never traditional.
It was open.
It was easier to be open than constantly fight about his girls on the side.
But when he was actively choosing his then girlfriend over me and this baby he begged for …
that’s not what we agreed to.
Gabby and I were supposed to be his top priorities.
It still makes me mad that I was second fucking fiddle in my own home.
He’s a self-centered prick.
Always has been.
Always will be.
“Claire,” he says in a voice I wish I didn’t find attractive with a face I want to punch as he stands on my doorstep.
“Samuel,” I greet tightly, noting how his brown hair has more gray since the last time I saw him.
“Remember, if she eats past seven, she will have nightmares. I know your family eats late, but this is a proven thing. Don’t let your mom tell you it’s all in my head. If you want to sleep for the next couple of nights, do not feed her late.”
“Relájate.”
“Don’t tell me to relax.” I squint at him, then bend down to hug Gabby.
“I miss you already. Have so much fun swimming with your cousins.”
“Bye, Mommy.”
I squeeze her tight, grateful I only have to part with her a few days a month.
Shutting the door, I stare blankly at my living room for a moment.
Free time.
I lean into the silence.
What am I going to do before my date?
I have to shave my legs, that’s for sure.
Maybe I could organize …
no .
I need to take this time to relax.