Page 22 of Cluelessly Yours

Why can’t I find my footing here? Am I messing up?

After one last glance in Gavin’s retreating direction, I decide not to even bother with the food truck, my mind settled on the pizza rolls in my freezer, and head for the subway.

I feel like a drowned rat as I walk toward the nearest station, and my arms shiver and my teeth chatter as I step onto the waiting train and find an empty seat across from the doors.

In the name of distracting myself, I pull my phone out of my purse with the full intention of perusing one of the many social media apps I have, just like everyone else does on the subway.

But I only get as far as the locked screen when a missed text message catches my attention.

Figuring it’s Mo again with more pictures of the boys at the baseball game, I head straight for my inbox, but my eyebrows draw together and my heartstarts pounding like a damn kick drum inside my chest when I see the sender is Dr. Noah Philips.

Oh God, did he see me at the bar earlier tonight?

The mere thought of him witnessing me rushing out like my ass was on fire makes my face heat with embarrassment.

His message came in about an hour ago, most likely when I was in the nervous, anxious midst of my first date in years. Which is confusing as hell because he was still on a date too.

I hover my fingers over the keys as I waver on whether to open it.

Ultimately, though, my curiosity wins out.

Noah: I didn’t get a chance to ask you yesterday, but how did it go with Seth’s principal?

Relief fills my lungs with air. He didn’t see me,thankgoodness.

And it’s super sweet that he’s checking in on my son, but I don’t have the energy to answer him tonight.

Gavin Evans is a really nice guy, and so is Noah Philips.

The problem is, these days, in the world of Sammy Baker, pretty much all guys finish last.

Monday, April 25th

“Why do alligators have legs?” Grant asks, tugging at my hand with his skip as we stroll through Central Park.

“Well, I would imagine it’s because they walk on land, buddy. Just like we do.”

The day is sun-filled, and even though the spring air is still cool enough to require a jacket, it’s more than apparent by the size of the late-morning crowd that everyone in the city is ready to be outside and enjoying warmer weather after the long winter months. I’m still trying to feel completely dried out after Saturday night, and the sun feels like it’s the only thing that helps.

Technically speaking, Grant should be in his afternoon kindergarten class right now, but he’s off for a scheduled in-service day. La Croisette is closed on Mondays, so Zoe has the day off—deservedly, I must say, after the war zone of sickness she saw on Friday. And Seth is at school.

I’m kind of amazed they didn’t make me keep him home for a few days after his “my aunt Brooke writes sex books” outburst on Friday, but I guess the punishment for second graders goofing off isn’t exactly sending them to Shawshank.

Plus, his first counseling session with Ms. Sandy Rose is after school today.

“But the water is where alligators lurk, right?” Grant asks.

“Yeah, I guess so.” I shrug, silently wishing I’d studied up on alligators prior to getting out for some much-needed air. “Why the sudden interest in alligators?”

“They’regreen,” he snaps, like that explains everything. And hell, maybe it does. I don’t know. But I don’t know much of anything anymore. I mean, are alligators really even green? Or are they more brown?

While I’m still contemplating the color of freaking alligators, Grant is tugging me forward with a renewed sense of energy that borders on forceful. I’m always so amazed how strong such a little person can be at this age—

“Oof,” I grunt, bracing myself as I make impact with a heavy body and tangle in the winding vise of something else.

Jeez, what is it with my kids and slamming me into people—

“Sammy?” a voice Iknowasks, and my head snaps up from my wince at Grant.

---