Chapter 17 – Are You Dating Anyone?
Liam
Esther is allergic to calendaring and planning ahead, and while I’d love to give her regular scheduled time with the kids, the disappointment they’d face isn’t worth it.
That often means I drop plans to accommodate her whims. She gave me physical custody of them, so I do what I can to make sure she’s in their lives as much as possible.
She calls during Wyatt’s basketball game, and I have to step outside the elementary school gym so I can hear her.
It’s fine. Wyatt isn’t playing at the moment and it’s almost halftime.
His team is up by ten, but only because the refs aren’t calling anything on either team.
I’m itching to go home and work on dribbling with Wyatt in our driveway.
There’s nothing more conflicting than watching your kid make an awesome layup while blatantly traveling.
“Okay, can you hear me?” Esther asks, now that the dull roar of background noise is gone.
“Yep. What’s up?”
“I was thinking I could do a girls’ night with Callie tonight. Daniel is out of town. I’d bring her back midday tomorrow. What do you have going on?”
“We can make that work. Callie’s at a playdate right now at the Cooper’s. She’ll be done at three. We don’t have anything after that except Wyatt’s karate class tonight.”
“I actually remembered that. He says it’s just okay. Is he any good?”
“When he pays attention.”
“So, that’s a no.”
“We’ll probably try something else.”
“Yeah, well maybe pick something that doesn’t happen on a Saturday night. Sheesh.”
It’s a warranted dig, but not something I want to hear while I’m dodging kids running in and out of the gym. I swear the coach’s little monster is gunning for me. He should be a linebacker when he reaches high school age.
“Esther, I need to get back in. When do you want Callie?”
“How about dropping by before Wyatt’s class? We can eat a quick dinner together. Like five?”
“Sure. What do you want to do for dinner?”
“I’ll order in. See you then.”
“See you then.”
I immediately open up my task app to make a to-do list. I’ll need to pack an overnight bag for Callie.
She’ll have almost everything she’d need at Esther’s house, but then there’s her stuffy, her toothbrush timer, and her slippers.
She’s a tiny diva. I hope she gets good sleep.
Knowing Esther, they’ll probably stay up late watching Disney Channel Original Movies and discussing celebrity gossip like Callie’s an adult and not a five-year-old child.
Esther respects my limits when it comes to what Callie can watch on TV, but I can’t police what comes out of her mouth, nor would I want to.
No kid has parents who are identical copies of each other. It was probably the most helpful thing my therapist told me. It allowed me to let go of my inner control freak at a time when everything felt very much out of my control.
Once inside, I head to the back row of the bleachers to sit with the parents grounded in reality. The PGIRs. We’re here because we love our kids and not because we think for one second any of them are going to be NBA stars someday. The intense parents sit in the front and yell at the refs.
I love everything about our group except for Jillian Booras. She sits in the back row for me. I’m not sure what it is about me besides my single status that has her so singularly focused, but her interest is not exactly subtle.
I walk down the row and choose to sit in a tight spot between two families on purpose, and I think I’m so smart for about five seconds.
I didn’t think Jillian had it in her to pick up a four-year-old and move him, but apparently, she does.
Considering we only see each other when our kids’ teams face off, I guess she has to make the most of our time together.
She squeezes into the newly made spot right next to me and leans in. “Hi, Liam.” Her strawberry blonde curls bounce on her bare shoulders. She’s in a black tube top, tight jeans, and red strappy sandals.
I give her a small smile. “Hi, Jillian.”
She beams back at me. “Wyatt’s team is really good this year.”
“Yeah, he’s liking it.”
“How is Howie doing?”
She shrugs. “It’s good for him to be in sports.”
I look out and see her kid sprawled across the bench of the opposing team and try not to laugh. It probably is good for him, even if he’s forced to be here. Wyatt had his coach last summer, and he’s a solid guy.
“Are you dating anyone?” she asks. Jillian is the most direct woman I know, which I would appreciate more if my directness in return had any effect on her.
“I’m not, but there’s someone I’m interested in. What about you?”
She waves her hand back and forth in a noncommittal way. “I am and I’m not. He’s… not you.”
Wow, that is more direct than usual. “Jillian, you don’t even know me.”
“I know you’re a good dad. You dress nice and you smell nice. You smile at me even when I bug you. That puts you, like, up here.” She gestures above her head. “All the guys on the dating apps are, like, down here.” Her hand drops to below her knees.
“There’s a good guy out there for you.”
She sighs, knowing what I’m actually saying: I’m not him.
Her forwardness reminds me of Esther. It’s not Jillian’s fault, but it’s one of many reasons I can’t date her.
I don’t want to date anyone right now. Especially after Maggie pointed out all the reasons why I’m not boyfriend material.
I can’t be what Jillian needs, even if I wanted to.
“Who’s this person you’re interested in?” she asks.
“What now?” A kid on her son’s team lobs the ball from half court in an attempt to beat the buzzer before halftime and almost takes out two of his teammates.
“You said you were interested in someone.”
That’s right, I referenced Rosalie. Why did I do that? I’m certainly not about to mention to Jillian that my kids’ nanny takes up a lot of space in my brain lately. If I’m being honest, she’s a big reason I don’t want to date anyone right now.
“It’s nothing.”
“Is she off-limits?”
“Uninterested.” But now I’m wondering if that’s true or if Rosalie just wants me to believe it’s true. She’s kept her distance, but when our eyes meet, I feel like there’s so much she’s holding back, probably for the same reasons I am. It would be a very bad idea.