Spotlight: Chapter 13

“You are starting to make me nervous,” Ruby says as I pace in front of the counter. Gigi had an early dinner date with a friend, so my sister is watching the bookstore while I finally go out on my date with Flynn. It’s taken two weeks and a lot of planning between his schedule and mine.

“I should cancel. This is a terrible idea.”

She looks up from her laptop. “Want me to go instead? He’s pretty cute. Plus, he likes my books.”

I glare at her, and she laughs.

As I pace away from my laughing sister, I unlock my phone and call someone who will be more reassuring.

“Hello?” Sabrina answers with a smile in her voice.

“HELP!”

“Is this an actual cry for help or are you panicking about your date?” she asks with a chuckle.

My nervous system is a wreck and there’s a pit in my stomach that’s growing as the time inches closer to Flynn walking through the door. “Why can’t it be both?”

“It’s going to be great. Flynn’s a good guy.”

“I know but…” My words trail off and a heavy silence hangs between us. I know it’s just a date and that he’s a good guy and that there are a thousand other reasons that to anyone else this feels like no big deal, but it’s huge for me.

The way I feel around him is beyond a typical first date. I don’t know if I can handle another heartbreak and I know, deep down, that if I open myself up to him, I’m only going to like him more. That night in New York was…magical.

The music in her dance studio breaks through my spiral.

“How’s Greer?” She’s watching her tonight while I’m on my date. I dropped her off at dance class an hour ago and she’s going to hang there with Sabrina until she’s done teaching for the day.

“She’s an angel, as always. She’s helping Miss Beth teach tap to the three-year-old class.”

I smile as I picture that.

“I think you might have a little dance teacher or choreographer on your hands,” Sabrina says.

“Thank you for watching her tonight.”

“Any time. You know I love hanging with her.”

I do know that, but it still feels like an imposition when I constantly need to rely on my friends or family.

The bells on the front door jingle and my heart lurches until I see a young woman step inside.

“Hello,” Ruby greets her.

“I’m guessing that’s not your hot date,” Sabrina says.

“No. Not yet, but I better go. I need to reapply some deodorant. I think I’ve already sweat through mine.”

Sabrina laughs again. “Are you going to sleep with him?”

“What?” I screech. “Of course not.”

“It’s not the craziest idea.”

“It’s bananas. We haven’t even kissed.”

“Well, start there and see what happens.”

My body flushes hot. “I might need to brush my teeth again too.”

I run my tongue along the front of my teeth.

“Have fun and I’ll see you tonight.”

I nod.

“Olivia?”

“Sorry. I was nodding. Yes. I will see you later. Text me if you need anything or if Greer does.”

“We’ll be fine.”

“Okay, then text me if I need anything.”

“I don’t think you’re going to need it, but I will text you in a couple hours to give you an out just in case.”

“Thank you. You’re a true friend.”

“Love you.”

“Ditto.”

I hang up and then let out a long breath. Ruby is talking with the customer as I walk back to the office. I check my teeth in the mirror and swipe on another layer of deodorant before I check the time.

Three minutes. My stomach is performing Olympic-level somersaults and twists. Sabrina wants me to think about sleeping with him. Is she for real? It’s taking all my effort to keep breathing at the thought.

Inside the office, I close the door and let out a long breath. I wander over to the back wall where the lunch notes my grandfather has written Gigi are pinned up. I’m always struck by the sheer volume. One every day doesn’t sound like that many until you see how that adds up over a decade or two. The entire wall is covered in them.

Newer notes cover old ones, but I occasionally like to peel them back to read something that might have been written five or fifteen years ago. I do that now, lifting the bottom of a yellow Post-it that says, , and revealing a faded receipt with the words, , scribbled onto it.

Not romantic but very real. And isn’t that sometimes the most romantic thing?

I get lost in them, rereading my favorites and finding new ones.

“Wow.” Flynn’s deep voice filled with awe startles me and freezes me in place. Goosebumps spread over my arms and legs as I slowly turn to face him.

My breath hitches as I take him in. He’s dressed in jeans and a plain white T-shirt. No hat tonight and his reddish-brown hair is wavy and curls around his ears.

“You look…” He trails off as he keeps staring at me, then his throat works with a swallow.

“Thank you.” I shift my weight from foot to foot. I wore my favorite dress, a simple black one that fits me well, and heels that are already pinching my toes. Flynn is so tall I felt like I needed an extra few inches. “How’d you find me back here?”

“Ruby said you were finishing up. Are you done?”

I’m grateful she covered for me and didn’t tell him I was hiding back here fighting off a panic attack. “Yeah. I’m ready.”

He nods, then his gaze finally slides past me to the wall of notes.

“What is this?” he asks as he steps toward it.

I turn with him to face it again. “Notes my grandpa has written Gigi over the years.”

Flynn’s brows rise. “That’s a lot of notes.”

“One every day. He puts them in her lunch.”

“I love that,” he says, smile lifting on the left side. His gaze roams over the wall as he takes it all in.

I step away from him, steady my breathing with a couple deep inhales and slow exhales, and grab my purse.

“Ready?” I ask him, finally letting myself feel the one thing I’ve fought all day. Excitement.

He moves his attention from the wall to me and he gets a cocky, flirty look on his face. “For months now.”

Something about his playfulness makes the rest of my nerves retreat. They’re not gone completely, but I feel more like myself.

“All right, Hotshot, let’s go.”

“Where are we going?” I ask once we’re in Flynn’s truck.

It’s nicer and more comfortable than I expected it to be, and while I was taken aback at first at the idea of him driving something like this instead of a new, flashy vehicle, I have to say it suits him.

“When’s the last time you went roller skating?”

“Roller skating?”

“Yeah.” He takes his eyes off the road long enough to smile at me. “I figured you’ve been on a million dates that included dinner or drinks. I want to take you somewhere different.”

That’s exactly the kind of thing I was expecting, if I’m honest.

He pulls into the parking lot of a huge nondescript building with no windows. If it weren’t for the neon lights above the front doors, it could pass for a warehouse.

“I feel like I might be overdressed,” I say as I step out of the truck. The nerves I was feeling earlier have turned into butterflies. I’m on a date with Flynn and we’re going skating of all things.

Flynn comes around the front to my side. The grin on his face is all boyish charm. “You look perfect.”

Inside, Flynn pays for our skates and socks for me. We walk over to a bench on the side of the rink to change our shoes. Only a few people are skating right now, but the music is loud and the lights are flashing.

Flynn gets a locker and shoves our stuff inside while I stand on wobbly legs.

“You got it?” he asks with a hint of a smile. He looms even taller on skates.

“I think so.”

He holds out his hand to me. “We’ll take it slow.”

My heart speeds up as I place my palm in his. His fingers close over mine and we move carefully together. He gives my hand a reassuring squeeze before we step off the carpet to the smooth floor of the rink.

It takes a few seconds to get my bearings and not feel like I’m going to fall on my face. If Flynn has any of those same feelings of unsteadiness, it isn’t obvious. He looks as graceful and athletic as always.

“When’s the last time you skated?” I ask him.

“I don’t know,” he says, keeping his stride short and in sync with mine. “High school, maybe?”

“So not long, then?” I grin at him.

“Ha ha,” he replies dryly. “I’m not that much younger than you.”

“Three years.”

“I’m mature for my age.”

“Says the man who brought me roller skating,” I tease.

He speeds up, tugging me after him. I squeal as he pulls me faster. His grip on my hand tightens almost like he’s determined to keep me upright by my fingertips if necessary. When I get my bearings again, he says, “I just wanted an excuse to hold your hand.”

Laughing, I pull free of him and skate ahead then turn to face him. His jaw drops slightly and he lets his head fall back with a chuckle. I’m grateful that I don’t fall showing off for him.

“Greer gets invited to a lot of skate parties,” I say when I turn back and fall into stride with him again.

“Impressive. I bet you’re the hottest mom of the group. So much for original, huh?”

That pulls a surprised laugh out of me.

“How is Greer? I heard Archer and Sabrina are watching her tonight.”

“She’s good. Probably forcing Archer to play dress-up and teach her new words in sign language.”

“She won’t need to force him into anything.”

That’s probably true. He’s really good with her. So is Flynn for that matter. I have replayed that moment in the ice cream shop where he handed her the bouncy ball over and over. I love seeing her so happy and open. It’s a gift that I doubt Flynn or even Archer realizes they’ve given us.

“Is it hard being away from her?” he asks as a teenage couple rolls past us. They’re holding hands, looking carefree and happy and so in love.

Flynn finds my hand again.

“Yeah,” I admit with a nod. “It’s weird because I look forward to bedtime when I finally get some time to myself or a night doing adult things⁠—”

“Like skating.” He waggles his brows playfully.

“Exactly.”

We laugh together.

“But fifteen minutes after she falls asleep or an hour into a date, I usually find myself wondering what she’s doing and missing her.” I probably shouldn’t admit that to a guy mid-date, but it’s the truth.

“Do you want to call her?”

“No.” I shake my head. “I know she’s having fun with Sabrina and Archer.”

We’ve gone around the rink a few times now and have found a steady rhythm. The music changes from the upbeat pop song to a slower one.

I finally get brave enough to ask the question that’s been on my mind lately. “Have you ever dated someone with kids before?”

“No. How am I doing?”

“You get points for asking about her. Most guys pretend like she doesn’t exist.”

“Really?”

His surprise makes me feel slightly better about the male species.

“Aside from maybe not liking kids or the idea of me having one, I think they don’t love switching the mental image of me out on a date in a sexy dress to picturing me reading bedtime stories and folding laundry in front of the TV while watching cartoons.”

“Everything I’ve seen you do is sexy. Hell, you even make rented skates and tube socks look hot. I’d venture a guess that folding clothes and reading bedtime stories looks just as good on you.” His gaze drops over my bare legs and flicks up. He’s so vulnerable and honest in his attraction for me that it constantly catches me off guard. I don’t know if he truly understands my life as a single mom or not, but he isn’t pretending that I’m something different than I am, and I appreciate that.

After skating for three more songs, we take a break to get food.

I stand at the concession counter, perusing the menu. Flynn is behind me. He leans forward and rests both hands on the glass, caging me in.

“Hot dog, pizza, or nachos?” he asks.

“So many options,” I tease.

“Nothing but the finest cuisine.” He winks at me, then orders one of each, plus two cherry ICEEs from the teenage boy working the concessions.

We take all our food to a little booth that overlooks the rink. His skates bump against mine under the table.

“Next time we should bring Greer. Is she a good skater like her mom?”

My heart flutters at the casual way he mentions a second date, including my daughter.

“She’s pretty good. She falls more, but she makes it look cute.”

“I’ll bet.”

I take a bite of the cheesy, greasy pizza. It’s terrible. I follow it with a sip of the frosty, cherry drink. The sugar goes straight to my head.

I feel thirteen again. God, maybe that was the last time I was this hopeful while out with a guy.

Flynn makes a face as he chews a tortilla chip covered in nacho cheese.

“Good?” I ask with a laugh.

“Awful.” He grabs another chip smeared in the orange sauce and holds it out to me.

I lean forward and take a bite. I’m not sure awful was a strong enough word for how bad it is. The chip is stale, and the cheese is cold. My expression must tell him exactly what I’m thinking because Flynn laughs.

He pops the rest of the chip in his mouth and smiles at me. “Next time, we’ll go to a real restaurant first.”

My stomach flips as he casually drops the promise of another date again. I’m not even sure he realizes he’s doing it. Or maybe he’s just that confident.

“Or I could cook for you,” I suggest.

“You cook?”

“Yeah.”

He groans. “Marry me?”

“Because I can cook?” Laughter flows out of me easily around him.

“I’m living on takeout. My teammate brought in these coffee cake muffins his wife made, and I swear to God I had dirty dreams about her for a week.” His grin is all boyish mischief. “Don’t tell JT.”

“Your secret is safe with me, Hotshot.”

We pick at the food, leaving most of it uneaten. It really is bad, and I feel like my standards are low. Chicken nuggets and Goldfish crackers make up a large part of my daily diet.

“Want to take another spin?” Flynn asks after we throw away our trash. More people have trickled into the skating rink. Teenagers, families, and other couples.

“Sure.”

Flynn holds one hand out to me, but with his other, he reaches into the front pocket of his jeans. I left my phone in my purse since my dress doesn’t have pockets and it’s been a nice reprieve from all adult responsibilities.

“Sorry. No one ever calls me,” he says as he laces his fingers through mine absently and stares at his screen. “It’s Sabrina.”

My pulse races with alarm. Ever since Greer was born, I’ve known a new kind of panic when someone calls me while they’re watching her. My mind immediately goes to all the worst-case scenarios before I can stop it.

“Answer it,” I say at the same time he puts the phone to his ear and says, “Hey, Sabrina.”

My throat is thick, and my stomach ties itself into knots as I watch Flynn’s usual playful expression twist into something like concern.

“Got it. We’ll head out now.” His brown eyes meet mine and his thumb glides over my knuckles reassuringly. “I’m going to hand you to Olivia so you can tell her, okay?”

I grab his phone the instant he drops it from his ear.

“Sabrina,” I say in a rush. “What’s wrong?”

“Greer is okay,” she says immediately. “She started coughing at the studio, but I didn’t think anything of it. Then when we got to your apartment, she complained her throat hurt. I just checked her temperature, and she has a fever. I’m so sorry. I should have checked sooner.”

“A few of her classmates have been out sick recently,” I admit. I thought we’d been lucky to avoid it. Guess not.

“Do you want me to give her meds or wait until you get here?” she asks.

In the background I hear Greer cough and my heart aches.

“No, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Okay,” Sabrina says. “I’ll just give her cuddles then.”

“I hope you don’t get it too,” I say, feeling guilt wash over me. It’s one thing if Greer gets me sick, but I feel terrible that she might have infected my best friend and everyone else she was around at the studio today.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

“Okay. See you in a few.” I hand the phone back to Flynn.

“Poor kid,” he says as we skate to the lockers. “And poor, Mom. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I just feel terrible for not being there when she needed me.”

Silently, he nods, and we change our shoes quickly then head out of the skating rink. It isn’t far from my apartment, but every mile feels like it takes an eternity.

Flynn waits until we’re close to speak again. “It’s good for kids to have a lot of people they can depend on in tough times.”

“Yeah,” I say, hearing him but the words not really sinking in.

“Greer trusts Sabrina and Archer. And more than that, she knows you trust them. While I’m sure she wishes you were there right now, she isn’t blaming you. So don’t blame yourself either, okay?”

I glance over at him. One hand on the steering wheel, dark eyes darting my way and back to the road. I don’t know how he knew I was sitting over here feeling terrible for being out on a date having fun while my daughter is home sick, but his words help more than he could know. They don’t completely wash away the guilt, but it at least makes me aware that it isn’t rooted in reality.

“Thank you.”