The Match

by Sarah Adams

  What the heck am I supposed to do with that thought?

  Friendship was fine when there was only a small probability that a woman like her could be attracted to me—a single dad with so much baggage that I have to rent a U-Haul to hitch to the back of my truck—but after seeing her smile when her fingers landed on my bed, that complicated things.

  I don’t know what else to do, so after peeking down the hallway to make sure no one is around, I shut my bedroom door and pull out my phone to dial the one person I know can tell me what to do. “June! Thank God you answered,” I say when my baby sister picks up.

  “What’s wrong? You sound crazy.”

  “I am crazy,” I say, scraping my hand through my hair. “I think she likes me.”

  “No way! Did she steal your baseball cap at recess?”

  “Shut up. I’m serious. And I’m freaking out.”

  June chuckles a minute, and then I hear her shuffling some baking pans around. “Okay, hang on. Let me go outside so I can talk to you and not have Stacy listening in. YES, I see you tilting your ear toward me, Stacy! Mind your own biscuits.” June and her best friend, Stacy, own a trendy donut shop they opened a year ago called Darlin’ Donuts. I’m proud of June. Everyone in Charleston loves their donut shop. The storefront itself looks like something right off a Pinterest page. Everything is white with pops of bright color, and each of their original-flavored donuts have names like “Just Peachy” for their peach-flavored donut, and “Slow as Molasses” for their cinnamon-molasses donuts, and then my personal favorite “Kiss my Grits” for their newest savory-grits-inspired donut.

  “Okay, I’m ready. Spill.”

  I sigh and go into my bathroom and shut the door just in case anyone is in the hallway and can hear me. “Do you remember the woman, Evie Jones, I was telling you about the other day?”

  “The hot toddy that works for the service dog company?”

  “I never once called her a hot toddy.”

  “You should. I bet she’d love it. Ladies love a sexy nickname.” Oh my gosh. Why did I call her again?

  I sigh loudly into the phone so she knows I’m done with her game. “Anyways, I just found her in my room.”

  “NAKED?!” I cringe hearing that word come off of my sister’s tongue.

  “No, you perv. Fully clothed. I just mean that she was in my room, looking around because…I think that she likes me. Likes me-likes me.” Wow, yeah. I hear how immature that makes me sound, but whatever.

  June chuckles. “Okay, what’s the problem? That seems like good news to me. Worthy of celebrating.”

  “It’s not.”

  This time she sighs. “You’re going to self-sabotage this, aren’t you?”

  “Most likely. Which is why I’m calling. I need you to tell me what to do so I don’t jump out my bedroom window just to keep from having to face her again.”

  “Do you like her?”

  I pause for a moment. “Yeah. A lot.”

  “Okay, good! Then just freakin’ chill. No one is asking you to propose. Do you know how many guys’ rooms I’ve snooped through when they weren’t looking? It’s how we make sure you’re not a creeper with lots of—”

  “Don’t finish that sentence.”

  “Stuffed animals,” she says, and I can hear her smile.

  “That’s not what you were going to say.”

  “Nope. It wasn’t. But seriously, just chill about it all, okay? Don’t push her away, but you don’t have to decide anything yet either. I assume you guys are already something of friends if she felt intrigued enough to play spy in your room. So maybe just keep being her friend until you’re sure you want to take that next step into Relationship Land. And if the situation arises for you to play tonsil hockey—”

  “UGH. Goodbye, June.”

  “Byyyeee.”

  I end the call and plant my hands on my bathroom counter to stare at myself in the mirror for a minute. It’s literally been over eleven years since I’ve kissed anyone other than Natalie. This past year has been so insane with the divorce and Sam’s diagnosis that I haven’t even had a minute to think about being a normal male.

  I’m thinking about it now, though.

  June’s right. There’s no need to rush it. It’s better for everyone if Evie and I just stay friends for a while. I can’t do the dating thing the way a normal man my age would, anyway. I have to be cautious because of Sam. Evie would be dating both of us, and since she’s not even thirty yet, I don’t know if that’s something she would even want. I need to inch toward the line. Feel her out.

  I can hear June’s voice in my head, saying, I think you mean UP. No, June, I don’t mean up.

  I’m going to take things slow with Evie. Christmas slow. Painfully slow. No-one-can-even-see-me-moving slow. And if she sticks around—if she can handle the lack of speed—I’ll consider Relationship Land.

  I walk into the living room just in time to see Evie physically pushing her boss toward the door. “Thanks for stopping by! You can be on your way now.”

  “But I only just got here!” She’s digging in her heels and smiling ear to ear. I don’t even know this woman, and I can tell she’s messing with Evie.

  “And you didn’t need to come in the first place, so go before he comes back!”

  “Too late,” I say with a smile. “He’s back.”

  Evie turns around with wide eyes—she might as well have a canary sticking out of her mouth. Sam snickers from her perch on the couch’s armrest, and Evie narrows her eyes at her, which makes Sam burst into laughter and fall back onto the couch. What am I missing here? Why does Evie not want me around her boss?

  Joanna gives Evie a smug look before crossing in front of her to get to me. She holds out her hand and smiles wide. “I know we met briefly a few minutes ago, but let me formally introduce myself. Joanna Halstead. I’m the founder of Southern Service Paws, and I’m pleased as punch that you chose us to provide a dog for your precious daughter.”

  Joanna is polite and engaging, and I still can’t figure out why Evie looks like she’s standing on pins and needles over by the door. Her hand is on the knob as if she’s ready to thrust it open and shove her boss out at any moment.

  “I’m the one who’s grateful. Evie had every right to ignore my call and refuse my application after the way I treated her that first day.”

  Joanna waves away my comment with a good-natured smile. “Water under the bridge. Believe it or not, you're not the first parent to not want a service dog for their child. It’s a little scary deciding to allow your baby’s safety to be put in the hands of a dog—or paws, I should say. But believe me, those paws are more than capable.”

  “I see that now, and I’m excited to see what Sam’s new future will look like with Daisy. And honestly, it’s all thanks to Evie. She’s put in so much time here with my daughter, and I’m really grateful for all of her help.”

  Joanna beams at me like I couldn’t have given a more perfect answer. She tosses a glance over her shoulder to Evie who opens the door and gestures for Joanna to walk out. Joanna just turns back to me, a new devious smile in place of the previous businessy one. “Evie really is the best. Never have I seen a heart bigger than hers.”

  “Yep, I have a big ol’ heart! Well, thanks for coming to check on everything, Jo! Tell Gary I said hi!” Evie’s tone is shrill and panicked.

  Joanna pays zero attention to her. Her eyes narrow on me, and I have a feeling I’m about to find out why Evie has been so adamant to get Joanna out of my house. “Mr. Broaden, has Evie told you about the benefit she’s been planning? We’re hoping to raise enough money to be able to give the dogs we are currently training to future recipients, free of charge. It was all Evie’s idea.”

  “JO, YOUR CAR IS ON FIRE!” Evie yells.

  Joanna just bats her hand behind her and waits for my answer.

  “No, she didn’t. That is really incredible, though. When is it?” Why didn’t Evie tell me about it? Suddenly, I remember our first con
versation where I accused her of trying to make a big commission off the dogs, and I feel even worse about my prior behavior. Is that why she didn’t want to tell me? Because she didn’t want me to see it as her being defensive?

  “It’s next Sunday night. Going to be quite the shindig—a black-tie affair and all the bigwigs in town were invited.”

  I nod, still wondering where this is going and how I play a part in it. “Sounds really nice.”

  “Oh, it will be! But you know what’s not so nice?” She puts on a dramatic pout. “Evie can’t seem to find a date! What a pity it would be for a pretty thing like her to have to get all dressed up and show up to the event all by her lonesome. Oh, wait! You wouldn’t be interested in being her plus-one, would you?”

  Ahhh, and there it is. Everything makes sense now.

  Evie lets out a long, defeated sigh and shuts the door. Her cheeks are the color of a candy apple, and I’m suddenly enjoying Joanna’s company more than I’ve enjoyed anything before. “Don’t answer that, Jake. Joanna is a scheming old hen who needs to stick her nose back in her own business.”

  “Don’t call me an old hen or I’ll fire you, little missy.”

  “Don’t call me little missy or I won’t come to painting night Wednesday.” I can’t decide if these two women act more like sisters, friends, or mother and daughter. I like them, though. And I really like knowing that Evie needs a date. Also, HOW does she not already have one? That question perplexes me. Evie should have a line of men wrapped around the block, begging her to date them.

  “It’s black-tie, you said?” I ask, my voice making both of their heads turn and acknowledge me for the first time.

  Evie’s brows pull together. “Yesss. Why?”

  “Because it would be embarrassing to show up in jeans to a black-tie event.”

  Joanna’s face grows into a smile, but Evie still looks skeptical. Honestly, I’m going out on a limb here by inviting myself as her date. I’m really banking on the fact that she and Joanna seem close and Evie would have told her if she already had one. But I’m painfully aware that this could all blow up in my face.

  “You really don’t have to come with me. I’m sure I can find someone to go if you’re busy. Joanna never should have put you on the spot—” I cut her off because she sounds nervous but not entirely like she doesn’t want me there.

  “I want to go with you.”

  I am Ryan Gosling now. No one can touch my smoldering confidence. It’s all fake, of course, but she doesn’t need to know that.

  “Really?” The hopefulness in her voice only boosts my confidence more.

  I shrug my shoulders. Yeah, no big deal. I go to fancy benefits all the time and definitely won’t have to go out to buy a new suit. “I do. I think it would be fun—if you’re up for taking me.”

  She’s trying to hide a smile as she tucks her hair behind her ear. “Yeah, okay, I guess that will work then.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  EVIE

  “So, she’s really mine now?” asks Sam.

  “She’s really yours.”

  “Like she gets to sleep with me from now on?”

  “Yep.”

  Sam smiles and lets her toes skim across the pool water again. She’s only dipping her toes in because she’s wearing little-girl skinny jeans and could only roll them up to the ankles. I’m wearing my favorite yellow cotton dress, so I’m able to dip my legs in from the knee down.

  The water feels like a bath, and the setting sun is warm on my skin. Charlie is lying down on the side of the pool to my left, and Daisy is lying down on Sam’s right. Other than our different hair colors, we look like a mirrored reflection of each other.

  I feel a tether to Sam that I can’t explain, and I wonder if it’s because I see her as a younger version of myself. We sit quietly together by the pool while Jake is inside putting out a few fires with a contractor over the phone. I glance over my shoulder and catch a glimpse of him standing at the window, phone pressed to his ear, but his eyes glued to me and Sam. His brows are pulled together, but he doesn’t look angry—just thoughtful. My skin grows hot knowing Jake is watching me.

  All I want to do is obsessively think about what took place this morning in his living room with Jo. Does he really want to go as my date to the benefit? Was it a pity offer? I want to murder Jo for asking him like she did—or kiss her, I can’t decide. But when I get home and give my brain the free rein it wants to turn that conversation over and over and dissect it like a mad scientist, I’ll know for sure.

  “Soooo, my dad says I can go to the slumber party.”

  “I know! That’s so great. Are you excited?”

  Sam kicks some water. “Kind of.”

  I look down at her. “Just kind of? I thought you’d be super happy he gave you permission.”

  “I am.” Except, she’s not.

  I bump her little shoulder with mine. “Tell me what’s up.”

  She breathes in and out for a minute and then finally lets the truth out. “I’m kinda scared. I know I put up a big fight about wanting to go…but now that I can…I’m scared I’ll have a seizure while I’m there.”

  I understand that, and unfortunately, the chances are pretty high that she will. Stress and sleep deprivation are triggers for a lot of people. “You might. But if you do, Daisy will be there to take care of you.”

  And I have no doubt that Daisy will. I’ve been working with them all week, and what I’ve seen leaves me with nothing but confidence.

  Sam turns her face away from me to pet Daisy. “It’s not that I’m afraid of the seizure. I’m…I’m afraid of what the other girls will think of me if they see me have one.”

  Unfortunately, this is the one thing regarding disabilities that service dogs cannot protect us from—other humans. People can be cruel, especially kids, so I understand Sam’s worry.

  “I wish I could tell you that everyone will always understand your seizures—but they won’t. You can’t control other people, but you can control who you surround yourself with. So, if you think that these girls will be mean to you if you have a seizure, don’t go—they’re not worth your friendship.”

  “Have you ever had anyone be mean to you after seeing one of your episodes?”

  I don’t like this question. It fills my mind with uncomfortable memories that I would rather never think of again. Ones I’ve buried six feet under the ground and promised never to revisit. Looks like I’m grabbing a shovel.

  “Unfortunately…yes.” I had a seizure during English class my junior year of high school. I am one of the lucky few who convulse during an episode (did you catch my sarcasm there?). Let me tell you, the jocks of the school loooovvedd that. They spent the rest of the school year reenacting my seizures every time they passed me in the hallway, but they must have been very into drama since they made sure to take their reenactments way over the top. I’m just lucky to have been in high school before the time of social media. I can only imagine how scary high school would be for someone with a disability in the age of smartphones.

  And you know what? As it turns out, I don’t think Sam needs to hear this whole story. It probably wouldn’t make her feel much better. So I keep the full story to myself but decide that, one day, if I feel she needs to hear it, I’ll tell her.

  Wait a second.

  Why in the world am I picturing myself in Sam’s life as she’s growing up?

  “I had some not-so-nice people say some not-so-nice things about me when I was young. But you know what…” I look down at Sam and brush her hair behind her ear. “I survived. It hurt at the time, but now I’m a strong woman who lives with a very scary medical condition, and I have every right to feel proud of myself for that. And you do, too. Don’t ever let anyone make you feel bad about who you are or scared to live your life. You’re more than your seizures. And I’ll be happy to remind you of that anytime you doubt it.”

  Sam smiles and then surprises me by leaning into me and wrapping me up in her darling little
arms. “Thanks, Evie. I’m glad I emailed you that day…even if I did lose my iPad for a week.”

  I laugh. “Me too, darlin’.”

  A few minutes later, I hear the sliding door open, and Jake steps out wearing a pair of aviators in a way that would make Tom Cruise envious. “What are you two ladies doing out here?”

  “Just enjoying your incredible pool,” I say, holding my hand above my eyes to shade them from the sun. I should have put them in front of my eyes to shade them from Jake. I can’t handle how good he looks drenched in the orange sunset. He’s already tan, but the warm glow only adds to it, licking at his muscular forearms and making the man look downright illegal.

  “I’m glad someone’s enjoying it,” he says, coming to sit down on the other side of Charlie.

  “Yeah, we never use it,” says Sam, a sad tone touching her voice.

  “Never?” I’m shocked. What kind of crazy person would have a pool this glorious and never use it?

  “Between work, and school, and doctor’s appointments, we just don’t have the time.”

  “Then make time!” He should be put in jail for owning a pool that could be featured on a design show and not finding time to use it.

  He chuckles and shakes his head a little. “It’s not that easy.”

  “It really is, though.”

  He’s trying to sell me adulting, and I’m not buying it. The real problem has been hovering in Jake’s and Sam’s eyes all week. They haven’t picked up the pieces of their life yet. They got hit with some tough stuff and haven’t decided to move forward. I’m about to slingshot their butts into moving on.

  “Life isn’t worth it if you can’t play a little. You’ve gotta steal fun when you can,” I say while standing up.

  Jake looks up at me with a crooked smile. “Like when? What do you suggest when every day is booked solid and I can barely find time to tie my shoes?”

  “Get some slip-ons.” I flash him a haughty grin. “And allow me to point out that you’re not busy right this minute.”

  His smile falters ever so slightly. “I don’t have my swim trunks on.”