by Max Monroe
I couldn’t not grin at that proposition. “Sounds perfect.”
He winked and walked out of his bedroom, his bare feet pattering across the hardwood floor as he made his way into the kitchen. I heard the faucet a few moments later, and with a contented sigh, stretched out on his bed and closed my eyes.
But before I could drift off into a little catnap, the sound of a phone ringing in the distance startled my eyes open.
“Shit,” Nick muttered from the kitchen, and the phone rang three more times before a little click and beep echoed into the hallway. When the words, “This is Nick Raines. Leave a message,” loudly filled my ears, I looked toward his nightstand again and saw a relic of a device. One that I honestly thought hadn’t existed since Barack Obama had won his first Presidential nomination.
It was damn near 2020, and this man still had an answering machine.
I smiled big at the thought as Nick jogged in and grabbed the phone from the cradle, winked, and jogged back out of the room to continue making coffee.
“Lex?” Nick’s voice reverberated from the speakers of the small, black device and echoed against the walls of his bedroom. “Are you there, honey?”
“Hi, Dad,” she answered, the soft and sweet lilt of her little voice melting my heart.
“Statistically speaking, it is more logical to keep your phone in your living room,” she stated firmly. “The waking hours are two-thirds of the average person’s day, but ninety percent of phone calls occur during those hours.” The girl had sass. I loved it.
“I know, Lex,” Nick said through a chuckle, “but the main reason I have a landline is in case the hospital can’t reach me on my cell phone. And generally speaking, that happens when I’m in bed. Hence the need for it to be in my bedroom.”
She sighed. “It’s loud, Dad. Actually seven times louder than a standard cell phone ring. You would be able to hear it from the living room.”
“Fine,” he muttered, but I could hear the smile in his voice. “I’ll take moving it into the living room under strong consideration. Sound like a plan?”
“Yep,” she agreed. “Anyway, I’m calling about the Mathletes,” she said, and I couldn’t not giggle at the way Nick’s daughter managed to get straight to the point and how flawlessly at ease their familiarity with each other seemed to be. “My competition is at six. Are you coming?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Cool.” The sound of a female voice yelling, “Lexi! Breakfast!” filled the background, and immediately, she announced into the receiver, “Gotta go, Dad. Bye!”
“Okay. See ya tonight, Lex,” Nick said, and the call ended, a final beep sounding on the machine next to me.
Immediately, I felt guilty for listening to their whole conversation. Sure, it wasn’t something I’d sought out or done on purpose, but despite the accidental circumstances, I’d still listened to the whole thing without restraint.
A few minutes later, he strode back into his bedroom with two steaming coffee mugs in his hands. He set them on the nightstand and sat on the bed beside me.
“I feel a little bad,” I blurted out, and he looked at me curiously. I pointed my index finger toward his answering machine and cradled one of the pillows from his bed to my chest. “I accidentally overheard your conversation with your daughter.”
Nick smiled softly. “Why do you feel bad about that?”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “I mean, I just felt like I was forced into eavesdropping or something. And, it was a conversation with your daughter. I guess it just made me feel uncomfortable that I’d overheard the whole thing, like I was invading your privacy. By accident, obviously, but still, I want you to know that I’m not that type of person.”
“No apology necessary, Char.” He kissed my forehead. “So, don’t waste time feeling bad about it. It’s not warranted in the least.”
“Okay, good,” I said on a relieved sigh, and before my mind could forget one very important thing, I added, “Also, I have a supplemental question…”
“Okay…” he responded, stretching the “a” sound out with a curious lilt to his honey-smooth voice.
“So…” I nodded toward his answering machine. “Did you have to order that thing from 1990 or 1991?”
“Smartass.” He rolled his eyes and laughed. “I had a feeling you’d have something to say about my answering machine.”
“I mean, it is an extremely rare and vintage sight. I’m shocked the Museum of Natural History hasn’t contacted you directly to procure it for an exhibit or something.”
“Are you done yet?”
“For now, yes. But, later? Probably not.” I grinned as I sat up on the bed and rested my back against the headboard. He handed me my mug of coffee, and I took a much-welcomed sip.
But still, I couldn’t hide my continuing smile.
He scowled once his gaze took in my expression. “It’s not that funny.”
“Oh, but it is,” I teased. “One of the country’s best neurosurgeons utilizes an answering machine from the nineties. Trust me, it’s hilarious.”
It was hilarious. But the thing I loved the most was the adorable half scowl, half smile that kissed his lips.
Goddamn, he was handsome. I had the urge to wrap myself up in his smile, his laugh, his gorgeous brown eyes, and stay there forever.
It had been years and years since I’d felt such a connection to another human being. My fiancé had been the last man I’d felt that way about, and when I really looked back on the past, on that relationship, I couldn’t recall ever feeling this invigorated, entranced, happy by another person’s presence.
What was happening to me?
It sounds like you’re falling for him, Char…
I shook off the insane thoughts and buried my nose in my coffee. I mean, I’d known this man no more than a blink in time. No way in hell was I already thinking that four-letter word.
That was completely crazy…right?
Me: They just asked a question about prime numbers, and I swear to God, my daughter rolled her eyes. ROLLED HER EYES. Like it was beneath her.
Charlotte: HAHA OMG. From what you’ve told me, it IS beneath her. She’s a math diva.
At the feel of Wes’s eyes on me, I locked the screen of my phone and slid it back into my pocket. We’d been here for two hours at this point, and he’d had his own phone out a time or two. But his gaze was decidedly heavy. He didn’t look mad or even judgmental—just highly fucking curious.
Given the recipient of my texts, that seemed just as bad.
I didn’t need him to pry. I’d barely known Charlotte a week. I didn’t need Wes getting a hint of anything and maybe ruffling some feathers with Winnie. She had all the power when it came to Lexi—she’d earned it. And I wasn’t willing to fuck with what I had. She hadn’t really had to give me any chance after the amount of time I’d left them to their own birthdays, holidays…everydays. But she had for Lexi. I knew that, and I was fucking grateful for it.
A buzzer sounded to indicate the end of the main round of competition, and Lexi’s eyes gleamed. Her team was up by five points, and the two questions in the final round were only worth three points apiece. The only way their opponents would win would be to sweep the round, and fuck me if they had a chance.
I mean, they were kids and shit. So, sure, they had a chance.
But they didn’t really have a chance.
Not only had my little girl been a dominating force the entire afternoon, but her teammates weren’t slouches either.
The first question was a complex diagram of triangles, and after being directed to assess the total number of triangles within it, one of Lexi’s teammates was the first to answer and do it correctly. Lexi smiled the smile of a schemer, like she’d purposely withheld from answering to give the other team a slight advantage solely for her entertainment.
She was a cat, and they were just mice to toy with.
I wasn’t sure if such ruthlessness made me proud or worried
. The only comfort was her otherwise sweet nature, and the idea that healthy competition was an outlet for her. In many ways, she was different from the other kids around her. When it came to math, she wasn’t average—she was better than.
I listened as the MC awarded the points to Lexi’s team and then moved on to the final question despite the impossibility of any outcome other than a large margin of victory for Lexi and her comrades.
“For this final question, each team will select one player to move forward to work the problem and answer. Assistance from the rest of the team will not be allowed, so choose carefully.”
Lexi and the two other little boys on her team huddled, albeit briefly, before Lexi stepped out of the circle and up to the podium to represent their team.
Winnie’s smile was nearly audible, and it briefly pulled my attention away from the stage and over to her and Wes. She was the best kind of mother, always doing whatever it took to be what Lexi wanted and needed, but now that she had Wes, it seemed as though she had what she herself wanted and needed.
I couldn’t have been happier for her. Even though our romantic relationship hadn’t been a thing for years, she would always be someone I cared about. She was the mother of my daughter, and a damn good one at that. Her happiness was directly linked to my daughter’s happiness. And there wasn’t anything I wanted more than for Lexi to grow up to be a happy, healthy human being.
I watched as Wes’s fingers curled around Winnie’s, and he pulled her hand over to rest on top of his thigh.
Just like it had dozens of times since I’d moved back, a litany reel of what-ifs and questioned decisions ran through my mind. Only this time, instead of focusing on the what-ifs of a nonexistent Winnie and me, it focused on the what-ifs of what could be with someone like Charlotte. Maybe I didn’t have to be alone for the rest of my life to give Lexi the father she deserved. Maybe I could have both.
When it came to Charlotte Hollis, I was completely mesmerized by her presence alone. I’d never met a woman like her, and the more time I spent with her, the stronger my craving for her grew. She made me want more.
The MC’s voice, crisp and smooth like a game show host, brought my attention back to the stage as he read the final question. “A man walked a total of sixty-five miles for five days. Every day he walked four miles fewer than the day before. How many miles did the man walk the last day?”
The other student, a shaking, towheaded little boy with glaring green eyes scratched furiously at a piece of paper as he worked at the answer.
Lexi stood stalwart, forward-facing with an expression of calm confidence as she worked through the problem in her head. It took about five seconds for her to come up with an answer.
The buzzer rang out as she slammed her hand down on top of it to signal her readiness and called out her answer. “Five. On the last day, the man walked five miles.”
“That is correct,” the MC confirmed.
Lexi’s smile shifted before my eyes, and I swear I heard Winnie, Wes, and myself let out a collective happy sigh. She hadn’t needed to answer the question correctly to win. And truthfully, Lexi hadn’t even done it for the glory.
She’d done it because that was how her beautiful brain worked.
Parents clamored to standing all at once, and the room went from a two to a fifteen on the scale of volume. Released from their hold, people spoke freely and abundantly as the kids had their final team meetings before dispersing.
Wes and Winnie turned to me, and I did my best not to waver under their scrutiny.
“Where are you headed from here, Nick?” Wes asked, wrapping an arm around Winnie’s waist.
I slid my hands into the pockets of my jeans and gave a slight shrug. “I don’t have any real plans.”
Winnie looked to Wes, the corners of her eyes creasing as she lifted her eyebrows slightly, and Wes shrugged.
What the hell was that about?
Winnie finally turned back to me as Wes looked to the ground to hide his smirk. He was too late. I’d already seen it.
“Would you like to go to dinner with us?” Winnie asked, and for a second, I had a hard time speaking. Cold, stagnant air froze my lungs with the unexpected question as I tried to learn how to speak again. “Lexi’s been talking about you a lot lately,” Winnie went on. “I’m sure she’d really like you to come.”
It was a tiny bit awkward, but if by the grace of chance, I was being offered more time with my daughter, I wasn’t going to turn it down.
“Yeah. Uh,” I stumbled. “That’d be great.”
“Great,” Winnie repeated, smiling in a way that made me feel a little like she was teasing me.
Emotionally, I wasn’t sure what to make of it. It was almost like she was trying to be my friend, and the woman I’d confronted with my move and my desire to build a relationship with Lexi two years ago never would have considered a friendship with me.
But I’d changed a lot. Maybe she could finally see that. Hell, maybe Wes could too. He seemed to be encouraging her to extend the offer.
I couldn’t figure it out, and part of me didn’t want to. Smart men didn’t look gift horses in their goddamn mouths.
Lexi came off the stage and ran right into Winnie’s arms, Wes following closely behind. I lingered back a little to let them have a moment and surreptitiously pulled out my phone.
Me: We’re going for dinner, and then I have to work early in the morning. Why don’t you meet me at my office for lunch tomorrow? I’ll text you with a time.
Charlotte: Work? Tomorrow? That’s a SUNDAY.
Me: Yes. It’s amazing how people never get the memo about Sunday being the day of Sabbath for brain injuries.
Charlotte: But you’re, like, in charge, aren’t you?
Me: Yes. Of fixing brain injuries.
Charlotte: Stop having a good argument for everything.
Me: My fellow surgeons also help me out so I don’t work every other Sunday when I have Lexi.
Charlotte: I said STOP with the good explanations. Not give better ones. You should have taken the job in California.
Me: One flaw with that plan for yourself.
Charlotte: Yeah?
Me: You live in New York.
Charlotte: Stop being smart. It’s like you’re a brain surgeon or something. Jesus.
I grinned down at my phone and glanced up just in time to see Lexi—and Wes and Winnie—coming toward me, so I slid my phone back into my pocket without answering and welcomed Lexi’s hug around my neck. “Dad! Mom said you’re coming to dinner with us! Is that true?”
“Yeah, of course. We have to celebrate your win, don’t we?”
She rolled her eyes. “Those questions were easy, Dad.”
I shook my head and gave her one last squeeze before setting her on the ground. “Nope. You’re just smart.”
Lexi pushed away and grabbed Wes’s hand, ready to go. I laughed as she prattled on with a million questions about where we were going, how many minutes it would take to get there, and the anticipated wait time to get our food.
I guessed that was why it caught me off guard when she stopped short and reached back for my hand with her free one.
Despite my surprise, I didn’t hesitate to take it.
And, hand in hand, the four of us left together, like a big human chain of modern family.
Sundays were for lounging and doing absolutely nothing. It was a rule designated by the Mayans or something, and on my normal weekend, it wasn’t a motto I argued. But as I scrolled through the cable stations and found absolutely nothing to watch and the anticipation of my upcoming lunch date with Nick started to make my self-diagnosed Restless Leg Syndrome flare up, I decided to snag my phone off the coffee table and bug him via text.
He was working while I was following Sunday’s number one rule of be a lazy motherfucker, but he’d been the one to plant the seed of a lunch plan in my head. It was his fault I couldn’t fully stagnate like normal, and he should be the one to pay for it.
Me: How’s work?
I watched as the text bubbles in our chat box moved, letting me know he was already formulating his response.
Nick: Pretty low-key. What are you doing?
Me: Cursing your inability to lounge naked as stated in rule 1A today.
Nick: No rest for the wicked, sweetheart.
Me: All work and no play make Nick a dull boy.
Nick: Haha. Jesus. Did you just put my name into a reference from The Shining?
Me: Uh-huh. ;) Scariest book and movie ever, btw.
Nick: It’s not THAT scary, Char.
Pfffft. That was total baloney. I was convinced he’d seen a different version of The Shining. I furiously typed out a three-word response and hit send.
Me: YES, IT IS!
Nick: I’m curious, which version is scarier, the book or the movie?
Me: The book, obviously. No movie can ever live up to their book counterpart.
Nick: Ah, I see. Are you a book snob, Char?
Me: No. I’m a *bibliophile*. There’s a difference.
Nick: Oh man. This I have to hear. What is the difference?
Me: A book snob thinks their reading preferences are better than everyone else’s. A bibliophile loves and respects all books and reading preferences.
Nick: Even erotica?
Me: Yes, even erotica.
Nick: What about weird, obscure erotica about zombies or dinosaurs or a man with a microwave fetish?
Me: Yes, even that. Humans should be free to read and enjoy whatever books tickle their fancy. Although, I gotta say, the microwave fetish sounds a bit dangerous…