Mr. Perfect O: A Single Dad Romance

by Amy Brent

  She was busy for the next hour or so, helping the man who needed to update his insurance forms, and working on scheduling for the next week or two. She barely noticed at first when Jake walked out of the counseling room at the end of his appointment. Her father walked out with him, walking Jake to the door. He had a hand on Jake's back, and he was leaning close and talking softly to him. Jake had his head down, nodding along with whatever Dr. Johnson was saying. At one point, he raised his hand to his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as if he were trying to fight off tears.

  Chanise watched the exchange, arching her eyebrows. With the way Jake had bragged that he was only here on his coach's orders, she hadn't expected counseling to have that sort of an effect on him. But it looked to her as if he'd had some sort of a breakdown. Of course, she didn't know the first thing about his life or his issues. But it made her curious. Maybe, she thought, his anger issues had some deeper cause.

  Her father patted Jake on the back, then left and returned to his office. Jake waited for a moment, composing himself. He started to wipe his eyes on his sleeve, then stopped and looked around the empty waiting room.

  Chanise picked up the box of tissues from her desk and set it on the windowsill. Jake walked over and took a few out. He wiped his eyes and blew his nose. “Thanks,” he said.

  “No problem,” Chanise said.

  Jake flashed her a weak smile, then turned to leave. She watched him go, wondering about his life and what had brought him to this point.

  * * *

  A few weeks passed. Jake came to his counseling sessions once a week, sometimes flirting with Chanise when he came into the waiting room, other times sitting quietly and keeping to himself. Chanise stayed out of his business; just like she did all of the other patients who came into her father's office. Though one day when she was home with her daughter, she ended up stumbling across something that told her a bit more about Jake Stone than she'd ever wanted to know.

  “Mommy, look!” Deena called out from the living room of their small apartment. “That man is on TV.”

  “What man?” Chanise asked. She headed from the kitchen into the living room, drying her hands on a towel.

  “Look,” Deena said, pointing at the TV.

  A news report was on the TV, with a picture of Jake on the screen, superimposed next to the anchor's face. The headline across the bottom of the screen read, “Superbowl Hopes Ride on Quarterback’s Mental Health.”

  “Deena, why are you watching this?” Chanise asked. “Where are your cartoons?”

  “I want to see this,” Deena said, hiding the remote behind her back.

  Chanise sighed and sat down, curious what was going on with Jake that would have him on the news.

  The report was already halfway done by the time Chanise started paying attention. “Sources say that the star quarterback has been suffering from severe stress and depression, for which the league has put him into mandatory therapy. At least once source, who spoke to us on the condition that they remain anonymous, has said that Stone will be unable to return to play at the beginning of the season. He may return as early as mid-season, but that may be too late as the team's record may already be too far behind by that point, potentially ruining their chances of making it into the playoffs.”

  Chanise shook her head. It was a shame to see that Jake was being kept off his team like that. Though what the reporter said next made it a bit harder for her to be sympathetic.

  “Stone's forced therapy comes after a suspension for disorderly conduct near the end of last season. According to reports at the time, Stone was accused of assaulting several of his teammates after a confrontation in the locker room during one of last year's playoff games. Many fans blamed Stone's suspension as the reason that the team didn't make it into the Superbowl again last year, even though they had seemed to be on a clear path to the championship all season long. Some fans are clamoring for Stone’s return, while others say that his behavior should disqualify him from any future career in the NFL.”

  The news report moved on to talking about the weather. Chanise sighed and got up, returning to the kitchen to continue working on dinner. “Deena, why don't you tune to Nickelodeon instead? You don't need to be watching this sort of thing.”

  Deena let out a dramatic sigh. “Okay, Mom.”

  She flipped the channel, and the opening theme of one of her cartoon shows soon filled the air.

  Chanise stirred the pasta, trying to put Jake's story out of her mind. But she couldn't help but think of the contrast between the news report of a man who had assaulted his teammates, and the man she had seen crying at the end of his counseling session. It was clear to her that there was more to Jake Stone than what met the eye.

  * * *

  The day before Jake's next appointment, he called the office. “Hey, is this Chanise?” he asked.

  “That's right,” I said. “How can I help you?” I kept my professional tone firmly in place.

  “Hey, listen, I need to reschedule my appointment. Can you help me out with that?”

  I checked the computer for Jake's appointment. “This is a bit last-minute, don't you think? We normally need forty-eight hours for cancellations.”

  “This isn't a cancellation,” Jake said. “Just a rescheduling. Can you give me a hand, baby? This is really important.”

  “I'm not your baby,” I said, my professional tone vanishing.

  “Sorry. Sorry, Chanise. But seriously, I need to move my appointment. Something later this week?”

  I looked through the appointments we had booked for the rest of the week. “This week is full,” I told him. “I can set you up for something next week.”

  “No, that won't work,” he said. “I have to have weekly sessions. The coach said if I miss any, there's no chance I'll get my suspension lifted.”

  “Then I suggest you make it here tomorrow,” Chanise said.

  “You don't understand,” Jake said. “This thing tomorrow, I absolutely can't miss it. It'll just kill me if I do. I need you to help me out here. You'd be a real life saver.”

  “I'm sure that whatever football party you're going to isn't that important, compared to keeping up with your appointments.”

  “It's not a football thing,” he said. “It's my niece's birthday.”

  “Oh.” Chanise sat back in her chair, suddenly feeling like a jerk.

  “I promised her I'd be there,” Jake said. “I promised her like a dozen times. And I'm such a jerk. I didn't realize until the last minute that the party was at the same time as my appointment. If I don't go, she's going to be crushed. Can you please help me out?”

  Chanise drummed her fingernails on her desk, thinking it over. “I suppose I could set you up for a Saturday appointment,” she said. “That’s if the doctor approves. He doesn't normally come into the office on the weekends, except for emergencies. So I'll have to ask him if it's all right.”

  “Please do. Please. I'll owe you, big time.”

  “Hold on a moment.”

  Chanise put the phone on hold and headed down to her father's office. She knocked on the door and entered when he called her in. “Hey, Pops. I've got Jake Stone on the phone. He's asking if he can move his appointment to Saturday.”

  She explained the situation Jake had told her about his niece's birthday party. Her father smiled sympathetically. “I'm sure that'll be fine. Jake is a good man. I'm happy to come in on Saturday for him.”

  “All right,” Chanise said. “I'll let him know.”

  She turned and left the office, shutting the door behind her. She was curious, though, about how understanding her father had been. Not that he was normally a stubborn man or anything. But he had seemed to have a genuine concern for Jake. She wondered what Jake and her father had talked about during their sessions. Whatever it was, it must have painted a very different picture of Jake Stone than the one that she had seen in the media.

  She headed back to her desk and
picked up the phone. “Jake? Dr. Johnson says he can see you this Saturday. How does eleven o'clock sound?”

  “Sounds perfect. Thank you, Chanise. This really means a lot to me.”

  “I'm happy to help,” she said.

  She hung up the phone, a small smile on her lips. She certainly hoped that Jake's niece appreciated what she was doing for him.

  * * *

  That Saturday, Chanise got to the office a little while before Jake's appointment was scheduled. Since she had to come in on her day off, she had decided that she would spend the day catching up on some filing that had been piling up for weeks. She also brought Deena to the office with her. She couldn't afford to pay for an extra day at the daycare, and besides, they would only be out for a couple of hours anyway.

  “You’ll be good for me today, okay?” Chanise said, rubbing her daughter's head. “Momma's got some work to do. We won't be here for long.”

  “Okay, Momma,” Deena said. She sat down at the child-sized table in the waiting room, where they kept some copies of Highlights for Kids and a collection of storybooks and toys. Deena busied herself looking through some of the books, while Chanise went into the back to take care of the filing.

  A little while later, she heard someone speaking in the waiting room. She headed out there and saw that Jake had arrived. He was sitting on the floor at the little table, looking at one of the Highlights with Deena. Deena was pointing at something on one of the pages, while Jake read the page aloud.

  Chanise watched them for a moment, a smile on her face. Then she cleared her throat. Jake looked up at her, smiling bashfully. He got up and wiped his hands on his jeans, clearing his throat. “Hey. We were just reading.”

  “Mmm-hmm,” Chanise said, pursing her lips. “You read a lot of Highlights, Jake? I guess that's about your reading level, being a jock and all.”

  “Hey now,” he said, spreading his hands. “I read them to my niece all the time. She's not much older than...what was your name?” He looked down at Deena.

  “Deena,” she said. “With two e's.”

  “Deena,” Jake said, smiling at her. “That's a very pretty name.”

  “Dr. Johnson is waiting for you,” Chanise said, folding her hands at her waist.

  “Okay, cool.” Jake waved to Deena. “See you later, kiddo, all right?”

  “Bye,” Deena said. She had already turned her attention back to her books.

  Chanise led Jake back to the counseling room. He smiled at her and said, “She's a cute kid.”

  “Thank you,” Chanise said.

  “Really exotic name, too.”

  “Exotic?” Chanise asked, crossing her arms. “What's that supposed to mean?”

  Jake shrugged. “I don't know. It's not a name I've heard before.”

  “Well, for your information, it was my mother's name. And it was very common in the seventies.”

  Jake spread his hands, chuckling. “Okay, okay. Sorry. I didn't mean anything by it.”

  “I'm sure you didn't. I bet lots of black girls' names sound 'exotic' to you.”

  “Hey, that's not fair,” Jake said, frowning.

  Chanise rolled her eyes and opened the door to the counseling room. “Have a seat. Dr. Johnson will be with you shortly.”

  She headed back to her office to catch up on her filing, trying to put Jake Stone out of her mind. She didn't understand how one minute he could seem so sweet, then the next minute they were butting heads. But it was starting to drive her crazy.

  An hour later, Jake stepped out of the counseling room. His shoulders were slumped and his eyes were red. Chanise watched him walk down the hall and into the waiting room. He paused with his hand on the door, trembling a bit.

  Chanise stopped by her desk and grabbed the box of tissues, then brought them over to Jake. He looked up at her with a weak smile. “Thanks,” he said, taking one and wiping his face with it. “You must think I'm a real loser, huh? Always coming in here and crying like this.”

  “I don't think crying makes you a loser.”

  “Well, most men don't cry.” He shrugged, setting his jaw determinedly.

  Chanise crossed her arms. She looked up at him, her lips pursed together in a humorous smile. “Oh, really? Well, I'll have you know that plenty of good men I know are men who cry. There's nothing wrong with that.”

  “That's not how I was raised,” Jake said. “My dad always told me that boys don't cry. You need to tough it out. Shake it off. When you get hurt, you get up and keep pushing on through.”

  Chanise snorted. “That sounds like a destructive attitude. There's nothing wrong with taking comfort when you need it.”

  “Maybe if you're weak.”

  Chanise dropped her arms to her sides, the amusement vanishing from her face. “See, that's so typical. You think crying is weak because it's what women do. Are you telling me you think women are weak?”

  “No, not at all.” Jake forced a grin, though there was still a strain on his eyes. “You don't seem weak at all.”

  “You can bet your white ass I ain't weak. I'm stronger than you.”

  “Oh really?” Jake leaned against the doorframe, his grin widening, and his eyes starting to light up. “You think you could take me?”

  “Typical man,” Chanise said. “You only equate strength with physical strength. I'm talking about emotional strength. If you're too afraid to cry, then that shows that I'm stronger than you, because I'm not ashamed of my emotions.”

  He laughed and shook his head. “Wow. You sound just like Dr. Johnson. He keeps telling me I need to stop being scared to face my emotions. That's kind of why I'm such a mess right now.” He looked down at his feet, blushing a little.

  A little smile touched the corner of Chanise's mouth. “Well, you should listen to him. He's a wise man.”

  Jake nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, he definitely is.”

  Chanise sighed and shook her head. “Well, you have yourself a good day, Mr. Stone. I'll see you next Thursday.”

  “Maybe we could see each other before then.”

  Chanise paused, looking up at Jake. He looked her right in the eye, his gaze steady. “Excuse me?” she asked.

  “You and me,” he said, smirking. “Maybe we could see each other sometime. Outside of this place, I mean.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Mr. Stone, are you asking me out on a date?”

  “It's Jake. And yes, yes I am.”

  “I don't think that would be a good idea.”

  “Why not? What, are you afraid?” He crossed his arms and grinned, staring her down, a challenging look in his eyes.

  “Oh, no. I'm not afraid.”

  “Yes you are,” he said. “You're afraid that if you go out with me, you might wind up liking me.”

  She snorted. “Is that what you think?”

  “I know it. So come on, Chanise. What do you say? Or can you not face your own fears?”

  She held his gaze for a long moment. She felt cornered. She didn't want to admit it, but she knew deep down that she was scared. She had been scared of dating for a long time. Ever since her husband died before Deena was born. Jake wasn't the first man she'd mouthed off to, knocking his ego out from under him when he thought he was all that. Her father had told her it was a defense

  mechanism. A way for her to avoid letting someone get too close. To avoid letting someone have any power over her. She hated it when he analyzed her the way he did his patients, but she had to admit that maybe he had been right.

  “Just coffee,” Jake said, his expression turning more serious. He reached out and took her hand in his, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze. “There's no harm in that, right?”

  She pursed her lips, thinking it over. “I suppose there's no harm in coffee.”

  “Great,” he said. “How about you give me your number? Are you busy tomorrow?”

  She wasn't busy, though she knew she'd need to find someone to watch Deena if she went out on a
date. Though her dad would probably be able to watch her. “I guess tomorrow works,” she said.

  “Great. That's great.”

  She gave him her number, fighting against the fear that it was a bad idea. Especially considering what a braggart Jake had been when they first met, and how domineering he could come off at times. On the other hand, she had seen his soft side. And she had to admit that maybe she liked that side of him.

  Jake tucked the paper with her number on it into his pocket. “Awesome. I'll give you a call tomorrow, say, after lunch?”

  “That works.”

  “Great.” He reached out and gave her hand another squeeze, and then headed out the door.

  Chanise followed him into the waiting room. Deena was still there, coloring. Jake waved to Deena on his way out the door, and Deena waved back.

  Chanise crouched down next to the table. “What do you think of Jake, sweetie?”

  “He's okay,” Deena said, shrugging.

  “Just okay?”

  “Uh-huh.” Deena kept her attention focused on her coloring, seeming uninterested in her mother's potential love life.

  Though Chanise had to wonder, assuming the coffee date went anywhere, how it might affect Deena. Chanise hadn't dated since Deena's father died. She wasn't sure if she was ready for it, or whether her daughter was ready for it.

  Though it was just coffee, she told herself. There was no harm in that.

  * * *

  Chanise dropped Deena off at her father's house about an hour before her coffee date with Jake. After they got Deena settled in the living room with a Disney video, Chanise's father asked, “So, where did you meet this young man you're going out with?”

  Chanise felt her face heating up. She hadn't told her father who she was seeing, only that she had a date. For one thing, she didn't want to see what her father would say about her dating a patient. For another, there was the potential conflict of interest. She wasn't sure if it would technically be against the rules for her to date one of her father's patients, but at the very least, her father would probably insist on sending Jake to see another counselor. She didn't want to let that happen. Not when Jake seemed to be making so much progress. Starting over with a new counselor could be like setting him back to square one, especially if the new counselor had a very different technique and view of the human mind.