Chapter 1 Esme #2
Robbie nodded, his expression skirting delight, as he got up to come around to my side of the table.
Robbie wasn’t one who wasted energy on flexing his facial muscles, but at the moment he looked downright excited.
“He’s consistent. Predictable. He has routines.
That means he’s less likely to make impulsive choices that negatively impact a family system.
In addition, he doesn’t mind kids like me. ”
“That’s true.”
“And he has a good job,” Robbie said. “Which means we wouldn’t have to rely on Dad’s child support. Or should I say, the support that never comes.”
A wave of guilt washed over me. I hated that Robbie was so aware of the truth about his father and our finances.
My ex had trouble keeping a job. Mostly because he thought he was smarter than everyone else.
Which he most definitely was not. Robbie didn’t get his intelligence from his father’s side of the family.
If Robbie took after his father, he’d be wearing a tank top and ordering tickets to the next monster truck show.
“I might irritate him with my spontaneity,” I said.
“That might be the three percent incompatibility.”
“And he doesn’t like sand. Why would he move to a beach town?”
“Are you attempting to find faults in him so that you can dismiss the idea?” Robbie asked.
I shrugged, feeling like the kid in this relationship. “Maybe.” I turned my eyes back to the screen. He’s nice looking.”
“His love of routine aligns with your stated preference for emotional safety,” Robbie said.
“What? When did I say that?”
He looked up. “You said you never want to feel destabilized again. That’s essentially the same thing.”
“When did I say that to you?”
“Not to me. To your girlfriends. I overheard.”
“Yeah, okay. Well, I mean, after your father, can you blame me?”
“I cannot.” Robbie nodded solemnly. “Which is why Grady is not the right choice for you.”
I stared at him. “What are you talking about?”
“Mother, I sense you have feelings of a romantic nature for our favorite surfing instructor.”
I tugged at my top lip with my thumb and forefinger. “He’s my friend, that’s all.”
“I want you to marry Grady,” Madison said, looking up from her coloring book, a smear of cream cheese on the side of her mouth. Under the table, Trevor’s tail thumped at the sound of Grady’s name. Even the dog was in love with him.
My heart sank. Why did Madison and I always love the wrong men?
“He and I are great friends. We would not make a good couple.” Even as I said it, I wished it was different.
Grady was the most fun person to be around that I’d ever met, but he would make a terrible husband.
If only he were a grown-up instead of a perpetual surfing Peter Pan.
Robbie was right. I needed to put myself out there.
I went back to the photo section on @KidDoc.
The first picture was probably his work badge photo. Clean-cut dark hair, warm eyes, and a smile that told scared kids everything was going to be okay. In the second picture, he was on a hiking trail in the Pacific Northwest, wind in his hair, sun on his face.
Another showed him reading to a toddler in a clinic waiting room, a stethoscope still around his neck. The child was leaning fully against him, relaxed and safe. That one got me a little. Maybe more than I wanted to admit.
He looked good. More than good, actually. He was a man who might, theoretically, be very good for me. Could he be the man to make me forget my feelings for Grady?
Robbie returned to his spot at the table. “I already confirmed he’s real.”
“How did you do that?” I asked.
“Second Chance doesn’t require user identity authentication, which is a security flaw. So I ran a cross-reference.”
“Okay. You cross-referenced him? What does that mean exactly?” This boy of mine was too much.
He pulled the laptop back toward him, typing for a second. “I look at publicly available databases, his medical license, and his hospital biography.” He turned the laptop so I could see. A crisp webpage appeared with his photo. Dr. Mark Brenner—Pediatric Hematology and Oncology.
“Primarily he treats kids with cancer and blood disorders. It’s a high-stress specialty with a high burnout rate.
But his patient reviews are exceptional, and he’s published three papers in the last two years.
” Robbie continued briskly, “He’s been in Willet Cove for six weeks.
Moved here to join the hospital’s pediatric oncology team.
No criminal record. No lawsuits. No concerning social media activity.
Unless you count an excessive number of pictures of his nephew and niece.
Which some people might find endearing.”
I smiled in spite of myself. “He does seem pretty great.”
“Yes,” Robbie said simply. “I agree wholeheartedly. He passes all baseline safety and compatibility thresholds. The data supports meeting him.”
Madison leaned over the table to look at the screen. “He looks nice, Mommy.”
He seemed like a kind and intelligent man. A man who took care of sick kids. With cancer. I might have doubted his true existence had Robbie not done so much research. “Okay, fine.” I flexed my fingers and made a dramatic face. “Here goes nothing.”
Dear @KidDoc,
Your profile caught my eye, as we seem to have a lot in common. I’m from Seattle and wanted to live in a warmer, drier place too. I love Mary Oliver and tacos. We also share the same favorite song and movie. Weird coincidence, right? If you’re interested in chatting, please let me know.
Best, Esme
I pushed the laptop back to Robbie. “I’m not going to think about this again because he probably won’t write back.”
“Would you care to make a money wager on that?” Robbie asked.
“I would not care to make a bet, no.”
“Too bad. I’m feeling lucky,” Robbie said.
I laughed, rolling my eyes. “Eat your bagel.”
“Yes, Mother.”
By the time I’d done my weekly grocery shopping and returned back home, I’d gotten a message from @KidDoc.
Hey Esme,
Thanks for reaching out. You’re correct! We have a lot in common. Eerily so. I love that you own a flower shop. My mother teaches flower arranging at her local community college. Another coincidence, right? I’d love to take you for coffee or a drink. If you’re up for it, text me at 301 555 4434.
Best,
Mark
I read Mark’s message twice, then a third time, even though the words didn’t change. I’d have to be a fool not to give him a chance. I put his number into my phone and texted him.
Esme
This is Esme from the app. A drink sounds great. How about Saturday at 6? The Pelican?
Ten seconds later, he replied.
Mark
Perfect. Should I pick you up?
Esme
Sure, I live above the flower shop. Wild Petal. Buzz me, I’ll come down.
Mark
Great. Looking forward to it.
My stomach fluttered. A date. With a grown-up. I could do this. It was time.
That evening, the kids and I headed over to Gillian and Alex’s home for our weekly family dinner.
Although none of us were technically family, the five of us had created one.
One we chose, not the ones we were given.
My girlfriends—Seraphina, Gillian, Lila, Delphine—and me had been tight since our now fourteen-year-olds started kindergarten.
We’d bonded at the coffee and donut event sponsored by the PTA for the parents of kindergarteners.
That was the beginning of the steadiest relationships I’d ever had.
We’d been through a lot in the nine years since we’d first met.
Lila and I both got divorced when the kids were nine.
Delphine had lost her husband when he took his own life not long after my divorce.
Gillian and Seraphina had never married and were raising their children alone.
The five of us were like sisters, our kids like cousins.
But one by one, we seemed to be getting our happily ever afters.
Gillian had reconnected with her first love, Alex, and they were now married, blending their three children into a family, with a baby on the way.
Lila had met Vance on the dating app and fallen madly in love.
They were now married. Each had a daughter who now acted as if they had always been sisters.
That left Seraphina, Delphine and me. They were still resisting the dating app, but I had a feeling they were waffling.
As we usually did, the adults gathered around the table in the dining room while the kids ate out on the patio.
Although the weather had turned chilly, outside heaters kept them warm.
We liked them outside so that we could actually hear ourselves think.
In the past, more often than not we’d gotten together at Seraphina’s.
She had a big house on the beach. However, now that Gillian had married a retired tech billionaire and moved into his mansion, we had another great place to gather.
My apartment was too small for all of us, so I never hosted.
Delphine and her daughter Annie lived in a small house as well. We sometimes gathered in her garden in the warm months, enjoying the fruits of her very green thumb.
After we ate, Vance and Alex wandered off to watch sports, leaving me at the table with my four best girlfriends. Gillian opened another bottle of wine and a seltzer for herself. She was a dancer and Pilates instructor. Her baby bump had only just started showing on her slender frame.
“I have a date tomorrow,” I said, picking up my wine glass.
“No way,” Delphine said. “With who?”
“A match from Second Chance,” I said, flushing, suddenly embarrassed. “Robbie says we’re ninety-seven percent compatible.”
“He was right about Vance and me,” Lila said. “At ninety-eight percent. So he knows what he’s talking about.”
“Tell us about your match,” Gillian said.
“I don’t know much, other than he’s a doctor specializing in kids with cancer and seems to like a lot of the same things as me,” I said. “I’m meeting him for a drink at The Pelican tomorrow night. I’m sure nothing will come of it.”
“Pull up the app,” Seraphina said. “I want to see him.”
I got up to grab my phone. Seconds later, I had @KidDoc’s profile up. The ladies passed it around, nodding appreciatively when they saw his photos.
“He seems like a dream,” Lila said in her gentle voice.
“Almost too good to be true,” Delphine said.
She was often the most skeptical of the five of us.
Who could blame her? She’d been through hell after losing her husband.
Not to mention the years she’d tried to support him through his serious bouts of depression.
In the end, the mental illness won, stealing a husband and father from Delphine and Annie.
She was tough, though. Never complained.
Never felt sorry for herself. Just carried on like women do.
“Robbie looked into him,” I said. “And seems convinced he’s real. Not some serial killer pretending to be a doctor.”
“I saw a documentary about doctors who were, in fact, serial killers,” Delphine said.
“God forbid,” Lila said, shuddering. “But I do remember feeling nervous about meeting Vance the first time. I mean, we don’t really know much about someone from their profile. It could be completely made up.”
“Which is why it’s good to have Robbie around,” Gillian said.
“Have you told Grady you have a date?” Seraphina asked, tucking her thick red hair behind her ears, watching me with those observant green eyes of hers. She was a writer for a reason. The woman noticed everything, especially when it came to people.
“Not yet,” I said. “But he won’t care.”
No one said anything for a moment or two.
They all knew I was in love with Grady. They also knew how wildly impractical a real relationship with Grady Nash would be.
We loved him—everyone did—but no one believed he was husband material.
He was perfect for a party or a backyard barbecue, the kind of man who lit up a room.
Just not the kind you trusted with mortgages, grocery lists or the important details of everyday life.
“I think it’s great you’re giving it a try,” Lila said. “It’s been long enough.”
“What has?” Delphine asked.
“Since her divorce,” Lila said.
“And spending too many evenings with Grady,” Seraphina said, gently enough, but her meaning was clear. The more time I spent with him, the less likely it was I would meet someone appropriate. She was right, of course. But I couldn’t seem to stay away from Grady.
“I can’t wait to hear all about it,” Gillian said. “You have to text us the minute you get home.”
“Oh, I will. Trust me on that,” I said. “But don’t hold your breath that this will turn into anything.”
“But you never know,” Lila said. “Look at me and Vance.”
“You won the lottery with that one,” I said. “Same with you, Gillian. You’ve both given me hope.”
Seraphina raised her glass. “To hope.”
We all clinked glasses just as the kids filed into the house asking about dessert. Whatever happened tomorrow, I would have these beautiful people to call family. I must remember to be grateful. Even if the man I love was stuck in Neverland.