“Still no luck?” my friend, Marcy, asked as I hung up the phone with a sigh. I held my head in my hands, groaning as I felt the beginning pangs of an oncoming headache. Eventually, I lifted my head, looking at my friend as she munched away at her fries without a care in the world.

             “I’ve never had this much trouble finding a job before. It’s like I’ve been blacklisted or something – which is impossible, because no one would blacklist a graphic designer in Atlanta,” I laughed, not quite sure where that sequence of logic had come from.

             I felt Marcy’s stare burn a hole into the side of my head, but I refused to meet her gaze, knowing that one look into my eyes and she would be able to read what was really bothering me. I had met Marcy my first day in Atlanta, at the daycare I used to use when I had first moved here. We had bonded over a cup of coffee, and we had been friends ever since. Even after I moved away from my old neighborhood and into the house we now inhabited, Marcy and I had remained friends.

             “So… have you heard from Brian again?” she asked, causing me to groan at how well she knew me. It amazed me that she was able to figure out what was bothering me without even trying.

             “No. I’ve seen him almost every day when I pick up DJ, but we haven’t said anything more than ‘Hey,’” I admitted, shaking my head at my situation. “God! I am such an idiot. Why can’t I say anything to him?” I asked, her, begging for answers she didn’t have.

             “Only you can answer that question, sweetie,” she advised, taking another bite of her hamburger, spilling ketchup on her shirt in the process.

             “I swear, half the time I find it hard to decide who is messier: you or DJ,” I laughed, watching as she tried to clean her newly stained shirt with a dry napkin. “Here,” I offered, holding out a baby wipe.

             “Thanks,” she smiled, finally cleaning the stain and balling up her lunch to be thrown away. “You are such a mommy,” she laughed, watching as I put the wipes, coloring books and crayons back into my bag.

             “That’s because I have a son,” I replied back, smirking.

             “Maybe you should call HIM,” she suggested, reverting back to our previous conversation. “If he won’t make the first move, maybe you should.”

             “I can’t. I didn’t get his number. Besides, he already told me that he just got divorced. He’s not ready for another relationship yet,” I argued. “And I don’t even know if I’M ready for another relationship yet.”

             “So… if all you get out of it is a friendship, isn’t that worth it? You said he’s a nice guy and you had fun talking to him, right? Well, maybe what you really need right now is a friend,” she reasoned, using her unobtrusive ways to gently persuade me.

             “Maybe…” I conceded.

             “Good. Then it’s settled. Next time you see him, you’ll walk up to HIM and start a conversation,” she confirmed, not giving me a chance to refute, as she got up and threw her trash away.

             “Marcy… Marcy… MARCY!” I called, laughing as she continued down her invisible path, ignoring my calls, despite their steadily increasing volume. When I finally caught up to her, I was laughing so hard I could barely walk. Watching my laughter only caused her to join in, and before long, we were laughing like a couple of fools, leaning on one another just to remain standing. I took a moment to collect myself before nudging Marcy. “Next time I see him, I’ll talk to him,” I promised, smiling at her look of triumph.

             She didn’t say anything as we made our way to our cars, choosing, instead, to smile wistfully at me as I got lost in my thoughts about what I would say to him when I saw him again. Just before we went our separate ways, I pulled her into a tight hug, silently thanking her.

             She slowly climbed in her car and started it as I put my bags back into my own car. Just as she was about to drive away, she rolled down her window and yelled one last piece of advice in my direction – “And don’t forget to kiss him!” And then she was gone.

 
            She really is one of a kind.

            “Hello Ms. Jenkins, let me go get DJ for you,” the receptionist at the daycare greeted. “Oh, and Baylee for you, Mr. Littrell,” she added, glancing over my shoulder.

             I turned around, shocked to find him standing right behind me. Usually we only saw each other in passing, one of us leaving while the other one arrived. “Hi,” he greeted, a smile lighting up his entire face.

             “Hi,” I responded back, returning the smile. An awkward silence followed after our one-word greetings, so I decided to take a chance and follow Marcy’s advice. How bad could it be, right? “How have you been? I hope recording is going well.” I felt like a complete idiot. I hope recording is going well. Could I sound any more formal and uncomfortable? I asked, silently kicking myself for being so nervous.

             “Oh! Yeah. Recording is fine. We’ve got a lot of stuff… recorded,” he responded back, just as nervously. I could tell he was having a conversation in his head similar to the one I had just had. I couldn’t understand where all this awkwardness had come from.

             “DADDDY! DADDY!” we heard Baylee’s enthusiastic yells resonate through the hall as he ran into his father’s arms. It was obvious that he was excited about something. “Daddy, can DJ come over and spend the night?” Baylee asked, using his most innocent face to get his father to give in.

             “You want DJ to spend the night, huh, buddy?” he asked, looking at DJ who was nodding his head just as enthusiastically as Baylee. He turned and gave me an amused look before turning back to his son. “Don’t you think DJ should ask his mom for permission, first?” Brian lectured, trying to stay stern despite the cute pout that now covered Baylee’s face.

             “Yes…” Baylee whispered, hanging his head. “But you always told me to ask you first, THEN talk to their mommy or daddy,” Baylee argued, hands on his hips, as he looked up at his father with hopeful eyes. “Isn’t that right, daddy?”

             “That’s right, buddy,” he smiled, ruffling his son’s hair before turning his attention to me. “Well, what do you say? Do you feel like a night off of parent duty?” he offered, giving me his most irresistible smile.

             “Well, with an offer like that, how can I refuse?” I accepted, laughing at myself for being such a total and complete dork. He just smiled at me, as we exchanged information – only to be used in case of an emergency, of course. With one final smile in each other’s direction, we separated and promised to meet up again in an hour.

            “Okay, now DJ, you are to be on your best behavior, do you understand me? I don’t want to hear a single bad thing from Brian, okay?” I instructed, as we made our way up the path to Brian’s front door.

             Looking up at his house, I was left speechless by the size and beauty. It was even better than I had imagined, obviously having been at the mercy of a woman’s touch at some point in time. There was no way I would believe for a second that Brian could have picked out hanging plants to decorate his entryway. Taking a deep breath, I knocked on the door, waiting for someone to answer.

             I half expected to be greeted by a maid or butler – so I was once again surprised when Brian answered the door himself, a dish towel draped over his shoulder and a wooden stirring spoon in hand. “Hello Mrs. Littrell, is Brian home?” I joked.

             “Ha ha ha. You’re so funny,” Brian sarcastically laughed, before sending me a playful smile. “Come on in. I’m almost done with supper,” he invited, leaving the door open for us to follow him inside.

             “Your house is absolutely beautiful, Brian,” I complimented, looking around at the impeccably decorated home as DJ and I followed him into the kitchen. “Who did the decorating?”

             “Thank you. I had an interior decorator come after Leighanne moved out. She redecorated the whole house, making it more masculine, but still keeping that well-kept look going,” he informed me. “Hey DJ, why don’t you go upstairs and tell Baylee supper’s almost ready?” Brian persuaded my son, pointing him in the direction of Baylee’s room.

             “OKAY!” he excitedly exclaimed.

             As soon as he was gone, I turned to Brian, deciding to get all the important parenting stuff out of the way before I forgot. “Thanks for taking the kids tonight, Brian. I guess they’ve grown close over the last week or so, huh?” I asked, smiling at the thought of my son having his first real “best friend.” Every day for the last week had been “Baylee this” and “Baylee that.” I had never seen my son so happy in my entire life, and that, in turn, made me happy.

             “It’s no problem. Really. I’m actually kind of glad Baylee finally has someone he can play with and have sleepovers with. He doesn’t really have a lot of friends because he’s not here long enough to really make friends with the neighbors,” Brian explained, a sad smile crossing his face.

             “I’m sure he loves being able to travel the world with you. But I know where you’re coming from. DJ doesn’t really have a lot of friends, either. Since he’s not in school until the fall, he doesn’t have that opportunity to make friends. And I’m pretty much working all the time to support us, so we haven’t really had the chance to get to know anyone in the area,” I confessed. “It’s going to be weird not have DJ at home tonight. It’s going to be too quiet.”

             I saw Brian contemplating an idea in his head just before he asked me. “Why don’t you stay for dinner?” he offered, giving me his most charming smile. “That way, you don’t have to go home to an empty house just yet, and you don’t have to say goodbye to DJ just yet. I have more than enough food,” Brian suggested.

             “I don’t know, Brian. I really don’t want to intrude. Besides, I’m sure DJ is dying to get rid of me already,” I laughed, just as the boys entered the kitchen.

             “Hey, DJ? Don’t you think it would be cool if your mom stayed for dinner?” Brian asked my son, deciding to use whatever forces necessary to make me give in to his demands. And it worked to. When I looked at all three boys giving me their best pouts, begging me to stay, it was impossible for me to say ‘no.’

             “Alright,” I finally accepted, silently laughing to myself that I was such a sucker for boys and pouty faces. Yup. Marcy was right. I am SUCH a mommy.