Page 60 of Coast to Coast

“Mine, all the good toys are in there. And don’t you dare sneak in there and look while I’m gone.”

We hung up the phone, and I spent the rest of the night cleaning my condo and preparing for her and Crew’s arrival. As much as I wanted to sneak a peak at Callie’s toys, I respected her space and left them be.

Me to Alex: So Callie…

Alex: No more fake dating?

Me: No. We’re gonna see where things go.

Alex: Good. I showed Mariana your text, and she approved.

Me: Don’t show her this, please. But it’s been a while…

Alex: You mean since you’ve had sex?

Me: Yeah…

Alex: Then you better pre-game.

Alex sent me a YouTube clip of the scene inThere’s Something About Marywhere pre-gaming had turned into a new form of hair gel.

Me: Eek, I hope I’m smoother than that.

CALLIOPE

It was, without a doubt, the worst flight I had ever had with Crew. He clung to me in the airport, sobbing for his mom, and barely soothed when I reminded him that we were going to see his father. The transitions were hard on him, but I saw firsthand that he felt safe, loved, and adapted once he arrived at the other home. I was thankful that Tom didn’t have to see this part; he already doubted whether this would work for Crew long-term if he saw how hard he fell apart. He might sacrifice his own time with his son.

Once we were on the flight, Crew settled into his seat with an iPad and headphones, and I kept him busy with fruit squeezes. There were no rules on an airplane. Anything to keep him happy and quiet was fine by me. It was the little kid version of airport rules and alcohol—no holds barred as long as you didn’t get sloppy or stupid.

I texted both his parents and set my phone to airplane mode. Based on Crew’s demeanor, once we got into our seats, I might even be able to read a little bit of my book. I was beyond excited to see Tom and even more curious about how the night would go once we put Crew to bed.

Once I realized Crew had fallen asleep, I took the opportunity to close my eyes, but instead of falling asleep, my imagination ran wild. Everything from what I would do when I saw him at the airport to whether he would tease me with those gray sweatpants while walking around the house shirtless. But what kept me on edge was the knowledge that I could touch him this time, and not just when we had an audience. Gah, this flight was like Christmas Eve. When I was a kid, I forced my father to refresh the NORAD Santa tracker every five minutes, and right now, I keep checking the flight locator on the seat back screen.

At one point during the flight, a mother with a toddler about Crew’s age was walking the aisle trying to get her little one to fall asleep. Her envious look at Crew as she passed made me feel for her.

“He’s not always this good,” I said to her as she passed. “That was me on our last flight.”

“Ugh, my mother told me I should give him Benadryl to knock him out. I thought it sounded like some pretty awful old-school advice. Right about now, I would take it and a shot of whiskey.”

By her next pass, her little guy’s eyes were starting to creep shut. She held both her hands together in prayer position, and that was the last I saw of her. Crew’s ears must have been sore as we approached the landing, he woke up pulling at his ear. I gave him his sippy cup, and that seemed to help. But man, once we landed, he was bouncing off the seat, the seat in front of us, and from the dirty looks of our neighbors, he’d bumped into at least one of them.

“Dada, Da-Da-Da-Da,” Crew said in a singsong voice. Over the last week, his speech has reverted to more babbling and pointing. Kelsey thought it had something to do with the transitions and the new baby. We were doing our best to encourage him to use his words when we knew he could.

I had carried on my favorite guitar since I now had a gig booked for later this week, and wouldn’t you know it, Crew all of a sudden remembered his new words.

“Kiwi, Gee-tah! Dada! Play.”

“Yeah, buddy. Come on, let’s go see Dada,” I said, trying to navigate the exit with a toddler, a bulky guitar, and both of our carry-on bags. It was times like this when I wanted to go back in time and slap the version of myself who thought that leashes on toddlers were barbaric. It would at least help my nerves, as it was; I kept adjusting my grip on his arm until. Finally, I just scooped him up on my hip, slipping my guitar on my back like a backpack.

Tom: I’ll see you by the baggage carousel.

I could barely stop to read the text, and there was no way I could respond.

“Come on, buddy. You ready to run?” I asked, not planning to run, but we were going to hustle.

“Weddy, Kiwi. Go!”

We hustled as fast as we could through a crowded international airport with a toddler, guitar, and his little backpack. By the time I saw the last sign for the baggage carousel, I had beads of sweat across my forehead, and my hair had half fallen out of its ponytail. Whelp, let’s see if he’s still attracted to me when I’m a mess.

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