A Date with an Elf (The Dating Series Book 12) by L.P. Dover & Heidi McLaughlin

Author:L.P. Dover & Heidi McLaughlin [Dover, L.P. & McLaughlin, Heidi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Books by L.P. Dover LLC
Published: 2020-12-14T18:30:00+00:00

6

Caleb

I stay on the porch until I can’t see Bree’s taillights. My mind is spinning. My heart is racing. For the first time since I met my wife, I’ve kissed another woman. Every voice in my head . . . believe me there are many. . . tell me what I’ve done is wrong, that I’m somehow tarnishing the memory of my wife, our marriage, and the vows we took. But my heart is saying I’m right. It’s healthy to move on and not wallow in what I can’t fix. If the roles were reversed, I’d want my wife to move on, to find a suitable man who could be a father to Alyssa. If I have learned anything over the last year, it’s that life is too short to watch it from the sideline or your rear-view mirror.

After checking on Alyssa and finding her snuggled on the couch with her bear and eyes focused on her cartoon, I head back into the kitchen and pull my phone out to call my mom. It’s not that I need her approval, but maybe advice.

“I’m spoon deep in peppermint ice cream, so if you need me to come over, you’ll have to wait.”

“No worries, Mom. I just wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Your date with Bree?”

“It wasn’t a date.” Was it?

“Caleb, you invited a woman to your house to cook you and your daughter dinner. A woman, I might add, who you haven’t seen or spoken to since high school, who you didn’t date, and who you just became reacquainted with yesterday. You may not realize it, but subconsciously this was a test to see how Alyssa would react to another woman being around you, in your home, and with her. Am I right?”

“Maybe,” I mutter. “What if I wanted a homecooked meal?” I counter with.

My mom laughs. “Then you would’ve been here at six for dinner. Nice try, buddy.” There’s a pause, and I hear her spoon clanking against her bowl. Now, I want ice cream and wonder if I have any in the freezer. “So, tell me, how was dinner?”

“Amazing.”

“And the company?”

“Amazing,” I say again.

“You need a thesaurus. Maybe Santa will bring you one for Christmas.”

“Okay, enough harping on my choice of words.”

Mom sighs. “Fine, tell me what’s on your mind.”

I inhale deeply and think about my life. When I try to picture my future, I see Alyssa. She’s there, smiling. She’s happy and always laughing. She’s not the sad little girl who cried herself to sleep for the first six months after her mom died or the child who refused to talk to a therapist until the bear arrived and then finally opened up. Behind her, in this montage of images, is Bree. We’re holding hands and her belly is round, filled with our child.

“Caleb?”

“Do you remember the first time you met Bree?” I ask my mom. “She had come over; I think it was our junior year. We were partners on a social studies assignment. I remember how she wasn’t nervous.

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