Page 110 of Scouting the Single Dad

I grin at the counter like an idiot. She could’ve written anything, and I’d still be smiling.

I lean a hip against the island and type.

Me:

Hey. We’re good—house is quieter but not quiet.

Me:

Actually . . . Not great last night. Benny spiked a fever and we were up for hours. Phone ended up in the laundry room, which is my excuse for being slow.

Me:

I was thinking about you.

Layla:

Poor kid. I’m glad you’re both hanging in there.

Layla:

Full disclosure: Faith was giving me a major amount of shit because I didn’t have the guts to text you. But I had wanted to, because . . . I miss you. Both.

Me:

Tell Faith she wins. And—we miss you too.

I wait for three dots to appear as she thinks of what to say next.

She doesn’t disappoint.

Layla:

Faith says I shouldn’t admit how much I’ve been thinking about you, but since she’s the reason I’m even texting—there it is.

Me:

You have no idea how good that is to hear.

Shit. That sounded really fucking lame.

Layla:

Then maybe you should have texted me first, ha ha. For a second I thought your thumbs were broke.

I wince and run a hand over my jaw. She’s not wrong.

Me:

You’re right. I should have. Truth is, I was planning to but then I felt buried. Benny was sick, and by the time I came up for air I felt like I’d already fucked up by not texting you when I left you at the airport.

I’d given her a quick, friendly kiss because Benny had been up my ass, sad about her leaving, and I didn’t want to make a whole thing out of it in front of her. Fast goodbye.

Zero finesse.

Me:

I gave you the world’s most G-rated airport kiss because Benny was hounding you for attention. Then the night went sideways, and by morning I felt like a bag of shit.