Page 15 of Biggest Player
Not that I’ve been looking hard the past few years. It’s only recently that I’ve decided to launch myself into the Datingverse.
“What about Ricky Robinson, Paul and Nancy’s son?” Mom asks. “He recently got divorced. He’s living with them right now, but only because his ex-wife bled him dry.”
“Bled him dry? He sounds fun.” And just what I’m looking for. A man who lives down the hall from his mom and dad, with a bitter ex.
“Don’t be judgmental,” Mom scolds me. “He has a good job at a wealth-management firm.”
A finance bro?
No thanks.
I don’t care who his folks are—I do not need to date the man living in a basement. And despite the inquisition and the frown upon my mother’s face, I know my parents and Wyatt are my biggest supporters.
They’re always there to lift me up when I need it most and want me to be happy. The problem is, they think that road to happiness includes a man, and that ideology isn’t likely to change.
“Pump the brakes on giving him my number.”
Mom’s lips purse, but she gives me no argument.
“So no dates yet?” Dad attempts to lighten the mood by continuing to pry, as if this were the only available topic of conversation in their Rolodex of topics.
“No dates,” I reiterate. “I’m working on it.”
He makes a humph sound, head down, focusing on his plate. “How is work going?”
So glad he asked! So glad he changed the subject!
“Great. I lucked out this year—no parents have complained so far. No injuries, no accidents.”
Yet.
I love being a first-grade teacher, but occasionally it’s not as fun as it sounds, especially when I have a student who cannot seem to behave themselves. Or keep their hands to themselves. Or is prone to crying or getting into scuffles on and off the playground.
This must be my year because so far, so good.
Twenty little angels I am pleased to call my students.
“Well, aren’tyoulucky.” Mom smiles. She knows all my work-related business—she’s a teacher, too—and although we’re not in the same school district, she knows what it’s like.
She gets it.
“Can I be excused to use the bathroom?” my daughter asks, napkin set on the table, halfway out of her chair.
I nod. “Yes, of course. Do you know where it is?”
Her head bobs up and down. “Around this wall and toward the back.”
I tilt my cheek so she can bend and give me a smooch. “Don’t take long. If you’re not back in ten minutes, I’m sending out a search party.”
Kidding,not kidding. . .
The remaining three of us watch as she bounds off, destination in a spot with low visibility.
Dad clears his throat to gain my attention. “So. Have you heard from Colton?”
I groan.
Of course they would bring him up.
