Chapter 5
Foundations
Gavin
Charisse was still buzzing when they got to the car.
"Did you see it, Dad? Did you see the shot? Harper passed it and I just—I didn't even think, I just threw it up and it went in!" She was bouncing in the passenger seat, eyes bright and a smile you could see from a mile away. "Coach Tim said it was perfect form. Perfect!"
Even I couldn't stop smiling. "I saw it. You were amazing."
"Harper and I have been practicing so much. So worth it!"
"Hmmm. Maybe you could practice your piano too, yeah?"
"Huh? What?" Charisse shifted in her seat, pretending not to hear me.
"I know you heard me, little trouble."
"Speaking of hearing you. Saw you hanging out with that lady. Harper’s aunt. She seemed nice."
"Not sure how that’s speaking of hearing me but, okay, I’ll bite." I laughed, getting a kick out of my daughter. "I agree. She does seem nice."
"She's pretty."
I glanced over. My daughter was staring out the window with studied innocence, as if she hadn't just lobbed that grenade into the conversation.
"Charisse—"
"I'm just saying. You guys were talking a lot during the game." A pause. "Are you gonna see her again?"
I should've known better than to think a ten-year-old wouldn't notice. "Maybe. We're having dinner tomorrow night."
"Like a date?"
"Yeah. Like a date."
She was quiet for a moment, processing. Then: "Okay. That's cool."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Just... don't be weird about it."
I laughed despite myself. "I'll try not to be weird."
"Good. Because you get this thing where you smile too much and it's kind of creepy. And too big. Don’t smile too big either."
"Noted."
We drove in comfortable silence for a while, Charisse eventually pulling out her Kindle to read.
My mind kept circling back to Andi—the way she'd blushed when Bridget called me a hot single dad, how she'd stammered through introducing herself.
My God, she was cute. And then, there was how genuine her laughter was. Every time.
My hands tightened on the steering wheel.
I'd been thinking about her ever since that day at the coffee shop, trying to work up the nerve to go back. And now I had her number. A date planned. Mrs. Murphy’s encouragement came back to me when she said, ‘All work and no ladies makes Gavin a boring guy.’ I smiled, thinking how Mrs. Murphy had mangled the old saying about all work and no play.
But she also had me right that sometimes I was scared. After Rebecca, I’ve definitely been hesitant to get back out there. Now I wonder if I did myself and Charisse a disservice.
At home, Charisse headed straight for the shower, now talking about the game again. I changed into sweats and grabbed a beer from the fridge; the bottle cold and slick in my hand. I settled onto the couch, phone in hand, thinking about the night and planning what I should say to Andi.
I pulled up her contact card and stared at her number for a solid minute before shooting off a text.
Gavin: Hey. It's Gavin.
Gavin: From the game.
Damnit. Of course, from the game. Great. Now she’ll think I’m an idiot.
I pressed down on the message bubble, trying to see if I could unsend the last message before the three dots on her side started. Shit. She had already seen it already. Can’t un-idiot that now!
Andi: Hi! I wasn’t sure if you were going to actually get the chance to text.
Andi: Or if maybe I made it all up in my head.
I laughed at that. I liked her sense of humor. She made me smile. And it’s only day one. Before I could respond, though, another message came through. And another. And then another.
Andi: Well, I mean. Not made it up.
Andi: Because, you know, I'm not delusional or anything.
Andi: My God. Please text back and put me out of my misery here.
Gavin: LOL.
Gavin: It's all good. I promise. You didn't make it up.
Gavin: Pretty sure Bridget would've killed me if I didn't follow through.
Andi: She absolutely would have. She's terrifying when she's in matchmaker mode.
Andi: Also, I'm really glad you texted because I was trying to figure out how long to wait before I texted you first.
Gavin: How long were you planning to wait?
Andi: I made it to like 20 minutes before I started writing and deleting messages.
Andi: So not long.
Andi: Clearly I have zero chill.
Andi: OMG. Forget the last messages. I was going to patiently wait. I have a lot of chill.
Andi: Tons of chill.
Andi: I’m the chilliest chiller you’ll ever meet.
I grinned at my phone. She was rambling through text the same way she'd rambled in person, and somehow it made everything feel easier. Like I wasn't the only one completely out of practice at this.
Gavin: Yeah. I can see that. Thank God. Because I have zero chill, so one of us should definitely be chill.
Gavin: So... tomorrow night. There's a place in the North End I've been wanting to try. Italian. Quiet enough to actually have a conversation.
Gavin: Does 7 work?
Andi: Perfect. Should I meet you there?
Gavin: I'll pick you up. If that's okay?
Andi: Very okay.
I took note of her address, realizing she was only maybe fifteen minutes from me and lived right down the street from Mrs. Murphy.
Gavin: I know it. I'll be there at 7.
Andi: Looking forward to it.
Gavin: Me too.
I set my phone down on the coffee table, the screen still glowing. A smile pulled at my mouth—then I pulled it back, thinking of Charisse’s description of my smile being "kind of creepy." Tamp it down, Gavin.
She appeared in the doorway, hair wet, wearing her favorite oversized Celtics shirt. She took one look at me and grinned. "Whatcha doin’?"
"Nothing. What are you doing?"
"Dad. You have your creepy smile on. You should look at it so you know what not to do when you take out Andi!"
"Go to bed, kid."
She cackled, launched herself at me with the force of a small missile, and wrapped her arms around my neck. "Love you, Dad!" she shouted, her voice loud enough to make my ear ring. Then she was gone, her footsteps thundering down the hallway as she called back, "Night!"
"Night!" I called out to her.
The next day, I picked Charisse up from school, waiting for Rebecca to come over and pick her up for the weekend.
Of course, as I watched the clock get closer and closer to seven, I started to get pissed.
No response to my texts, she hasn’t answered my calls.
Just before I was about to call Andi to cancel, Rebecca showed up —at 6:30.
Two hours after she was supposed to be here.
The worst part of it all was that Charisse was never surprised anymore when her mother didn’t come on time. She didn’t even blink when the pickup time came and went.
I watched from the window as a sleek black Mercedes S-Class pulled into the driveway, the kind with windows tinted just dark enough to skirt legality.
Well, that’s new. The price tag on that thing could've covered rent for three years in that cramped Dorchester walk-up where we'd started.
That thing was enough car to have gotten here on time.
My teeth ground together as I hefted Charisse's overnight bag, the strap digging into my palm while I pushed the front door open.
"Kiddo! Your mom’s here." I walked down the stairs while I called out to her.
Charisse's shoulders dropped. She closed her book without marking the page and slid it into her backpack, her movements slow and practiced, like a routine she'd perfected over many disappointments.
"Hey! You’re going to have fun! I bet David will take you out on the boat if you ask."
"Yeah! He totally will!"
Crisis averted. No matter how pissed I was with Rebecca, I never wanted Charisse to feel that.
Rebecca climbed out of her car just as I opened our front door.
Walking in heels, I heard clicking against the pavement.
She pushed her designer sunglasses up into her hair, which she flipped over her shoulder.
Everything about her screamed expensive—the silk blouse, the perfectly tailored pants, the watch that caught the light.
I tried not to roll my eyes as I turned toward my girl. "Okay, bug. Time to go." I pull her into a hug and walked her toward the car, telling her to have an awesome weekend.
"You too. With Andi," Charisse said, loud enough to carry across the fifteen feet between us. She was grinning, clearly enjoying herself now. I’d put up with all the teasing in the world to distract her from how dejected she’d looked just moments ago.
Rebecca's hand paused on the car door. Her expression tightened, mouth pulling into a thin line before she forced it back into something resembling pleasant. "Andi?"
Charisse bounced on her toes, practically vibrating. "Dad's got a date," she announced, her voice lilting upward like she was sharing a happy secret.
Rebecca's smile was all teeth. No warmth reached her eyes. "That's nice." She popped the trunk with a button on her key fob. "Ready to go, sweetie?"
"Actually, hold on." I kept my voice level. "Charisse, can you put your bag in the car? I need to talk to your mom for a second."
Charisse grabbed her bag and headed to the car, smart enough to know when to make herself scarce.
Once she was out of earshot, I turned to Rebecca. "You were supposed to be here at four-thirty."
"I got held up. I had things to do."
"You didn't answer your phone. Or respond to my texts."
She waved a hand dismissively. "I was busy. It happens."
"It happens a lot." I kept my voice quiet but firm. "And when you're two hours late, I need to know. I had plans tonight that I almost had to cancel."
"Your date?" Her eyebrow arched. "I'm sure she would've understood."
"That's not the point. The point is you agreed to four-thirty, and you show up whenever you feel like it. This is about respect, Rebecca. For my time and for Charisse's schedule."
"Don't make this into something it's not. I'm here now."
"Just—" I stopped myself, took a breath. "Next time, if you're going to be late, call. That's all I'm asking."
She gave me a tight smile. "Fine. I'll try to remember." She turned toward the car. "Come on, sweetie! Let's go!"
I watched them drive away, Charisse's face already turned to her phone in the back seat. The anger from waiting two hours was still simmering under my skin. Rebecca being Rebecca was nothing new, but it didn't make it less frustrating.
I pulled out my phone and texted Andi.
Gavin: Heading your way soon. Might be a few minutes late.
Three dots appeared immediately.
Andi: Sounds good! :)
The knot in my chest loosened a little.
Inside, the house felt too quiet without Charisse. I glanced at the clock. Six forty-five.
Shit. Get a move on.
I ran to my room, yanking open the closet. Grabbed the closest button-down and jeans that didn’t scream Trying too hard!
My hair was still damp from the quick shower I'd managed while waiting for Rebecca's car. I ran my hands through it one more time, trying to get it to cooperate. It curled slightly at the ends. Whatever. Out of time.
I grabbed my wallet and keys, did a final check in the mirror.
The guy looking back at me looked nervous. Hopeful. Ready.
Time to go.