Chapter 6
Six
Three days after Emilia’s wedding and Laila stood at the black iron gates of Harlow Municipal Gardens, her fingers curled around the handlebar of Whitney’s abandoned hot-pink scooter. The little girl skipped ahead and chatted to the yellow daisies along the gravel path, all the while heading toward the bright orange swings in the playground up ahead.
Laila’s explanation to Whitney about today was that they were here to meet and get to know their new neighbor, Ramos, who was definitely just a potential “friend.” As much as Whitney had gleefully accepted that version of the truth, she’d asked endless questions about Ramos, wanting to know what shows he liked or whether he liked the same food as her. Of course, Laila couldn’t answer any of that. She barely knew the man. Which only left her running her gaze over these pristine gardens and the too-perfect blue sky, while wondering why she’d ever expressed an interest in meeting up today.
Seeing Chip and Ally back together and so happy had made spontaneous emotion drown out her better sense. Or maybe it was the ache that came with remembering just how many years had passed since she’d had a similar private life.
Her stomach churned and she felt overly hot. The last date she’d been on was some five years ago and long before Whitney’s birth. Now, the heaviness of guilt only sank deeper into her tummy, because even this playground setting made this rendezvous feel like not a date at all. As though the chances were strong that her complex situation would prove too much for Ramos and he’d make some excuse to bail.
Who am I kidding?
That said, him seeing the reality of dating a single mom wasn’t such a bad thing. Both her parents worked. As did she. It was near impossible to get an evening off for any kind of socializing. So, daytime park dates it had to be. Perhaps she could just relax now and let “real life” take care of this man.
And speaking of the man, Ramos rose from a gray metal bench farther up the path, then embarked on a far-too-casual stroll her way. Her heartbeat climbed with his every step. He wore what she’d already decided was his uniform of black t-shirt, dark jeans, and a self-satisfied smile. But before he could reach her, Whitney got to him first.
“Hey, Mister Man!” Whitney yelled the over exuberant welcome and swung her arm up in the air, directing a decisive high-five his way.
In the next beat, she was gone, off to claim the one free seat on the swings. The corners of his eyes crinkled from his genuine grin, and he stalked closer to Laila, while she pressed a knuckle to her mouth and fought to restrain her laughter. Thanks, Whitney. What an ice breaker.
A portion of calm took over and she decided to help close the distance toward him, soon extending her arms in what felt like a date-appropriate hug.
She drew back and tried to ignore the spicy-earth scent coming off his skin, nudging her head Whitney’s way. “Sorry ‘bout that, and sorry we’re a bit late. Leaving the house with a kid, not easy, yah know?”
He gave a relaxed shrug. “All good. I would have offered to walk down with you, but I didn’t want to assume. I’m just glad you made it.”
Despite the light dance of his gaze over her face and the soft smile on his lips, his comment suggested he’d half expected her not to show. Not that she could blame his skepticism.
“Yah well, good assumption.” She nodded to the playground, hinting that they should walk on. “I drove anyway, there’s no knowing when Whit will get tired, and her legs will suddenly refuse to work. There are bags of cement lighter than a toddler who doesn’t want to walk.”
Though she cringed at already shifting the conversation to her child, he gave nothing but an encouraging chuckle. “I bought us coffee from Main Street. Seems you might need it. They might even still be warm.”
He tilted his head to the bench he’d been seated on, two paper coffee cups indeed waiting here. Despite not needing caffeine to prod extra life into her already racing heart, she gave a grateful groan all the same. “You’re a saint.”
He reached out and took over the duty of dragging Whitney’s scooter along, meanwhile, Laila drew a breath and absorbed the sweet, mid-summer Minnesotan air. “I can’t remember the last time I did something like this.”
“You mean, went on a date?” He turned and raised a brow her way, and she gave a small laugh.
“Well, yeah, that, but I also mean just getting out of the house to meet other actual adults.”
“Didn’t I just see you at a wedding?”
She laughed again and swatted gently at his bicep with the back of her hand. “As fun as that was, weddings don’t count. I kinda have to show up to those.”
“Whereas this was a choice?” His smile grew, revealing that he knew he had her and she’d inadvertently admitted too much.
He quietly parked the scooter near the bench and collected the two coffees, handing one to her.
“All I mean is, I feel like my life revolves around dropping Whit off at her grandparents, then racing away to work or study.” She eyed her coffee cup’s black plastic lid and ignored the obvious dip to her voice. “It’s just nice to have a change of routine.”
Even if this is very likely temporary.
“Yeah, I get that.” Even if she didn’t look up at him, his deep tone made the understanding in his statement sound genuine. “Though it seems Whitney is lucky to have you.”
Her body turned rigid, and she instinctively jerked her chin up, a confusing fluttery feeling taking hold beneath her ribcage. “It never feels like that. It always feels like she never has my full attention, and that she’ll wake up one day and lay into me over all the ways I’ve failed her.”
He narrowed his eyes at her in a thoughtful look and shook his head, soon turning his focus to Whitney who currently ran between playground equipment with two older kids. Even just that small gesture gave Laila the rare sensation that, for this one short moment, she wasn’t carrying the sole burden of watching over her child.
“She won’t remember it like that.”
Once again, the steady certainty in his words left her gaping at him, while the muscles over her chest locked up in inexplicable defense. His certainty left the impression he knew something she didn’t. “How would you know what she’ll remember?”
His gaze flicked to her, but only for a second, before he went back to watching ahead. “I’m the kid of a single mom too. I have a little experience on my side here.”
A neutral silence lingered now, and still, his gaze didn’t meet hers—almost as though he didn’t want to look at her—perhaps because he’d revealed something of himself. Or maybe because he’d managed to best her once again. So, she buried her thoughts by taking her first sip of coffee, and then mumbling a few limp words over the rim. “I guess that figures.”
Is this just a pity date? Or does experience make him a little more understanding than most?
“I remember my mom being forever busy as well.” Again, his focus stayed forward, as if he still wasn’t ready to face her, though his husky tone expressed more than any look could. “But I also remember feeling really lucky. Unlike my dad, she stuck around.”
He turned to Laila and shrugged, his brow creased at the center and heavy. “She was my lifeline, Laila. Yes, her inability to be everywhere all at once frustrated me at times, but life and maturity sorted those memories out soon enough. More than anything, I look back and just admire her. She could have given up, but she never did.”
Once more, silence swallowed the exchange, but for a whole other reason than awkwardness. His words stirred something within her, something she’d never really acknowledged as being important, and so she found herself blinking up and seeing him with an entirely new light.
What happened to the overly smooth bonehead I thought I’d be meeting with today?
She gave a lighthearted scoff of laughter and dredged her ability to splutter out a reply. “Wow. You might have just given me a glimpse down the end of the long and dark parenting tunnel.”
He offered another laugh, one that gathered the golden skin over his cheekbones, even as he took a drink of coffee and offered her his side-long stare. Yet another rare moment passed here. One where she actually did believe him. Where she felt like maybe she was doing an okay job.Even though she had no shortage of her own family saying so.
Hearing those words from someone still so new to her—a child of a single parent at that—she pulled her attention away from him because the swelling sensation in her chest threatened to overwhelm.
Next, she cleared her throat and set to reprise a casual air. “I’m assuming your mother is still with us?”
“Still in LA and living it up with her friends.” One corner of his lip rose with a bashful looking smirk. “Though not too busy to call most days just to chew me out over when I’m gonna make her an abuela.”
From her few spare moments watching the movie Encanto with Whitney, Laila recognized that the word “abuela” meant “grandmother” and joined him in laughing.
That said, this was a date, and she already had a child, while he’d just indicated a need for some biological children of his own. So, she raised a brow and mumbled over the rim of her coffee cup. “No pressure, or anything...”
He patted her between the shoulder blades and chuckled, his light touch sending unexpected sparks through her body. “Relax. I have a younger brother and he’s already got two kids. I’m mostly off the hook. My mom’s just never happy, that’s all.”
He swung a big smile her way, one that suggested sarcasm about his mom’s unhappiness. While appreciating being “off the hook,” his smile prompted her next genuine laugh.
An easy silence took over and they both turned to Whitney, now attempting to run up the wrong end of a slide, as the two other kids waited way-too-patiently for her to move out the way.
Laila and Ramos shared a joint quiet chuckle before he spoke again. “At the wedding, you mentioned Whitney’s dad isn’t around?”
The fluttery light feeling in her tummy evaporated, replaced with something far heavier, which made forming a reply take longer than she would have liked. “Yah. I did.”
More silence dragged out. She figured he wanted her to elaborate, but even after four years, shame and heartache still consumed her every time anyone asked for a recap of her and Whitney’s story.
Much to her despair, Ramos seemed to grasp the weight of her stalling, his torso twisting in her direction, as he eyeballed her from side-on. “Mind me asking what happened?”
Yes. She did mind. But then his tone held a soft edge that offered her a way out if she didn’t wish to explain—the annoying thing about that being his steady presence and his “way out” succeeded in compelling her to answer all the same.