“Mom, it’s your birthday. We can do whatever you want to. If you want me to leave, so you can be with dad today, we’ll do that too,” I offer, smiling because I know that’s going to get her worked up. She knows I’m joking, I always joke with her about these things. It’s just our relationship.

“Oh, you stop! Don’t you dare leave! I want you two here. This is perfect.” Her hand goes to her heart and she smiles. A look crosses her face so quick that I almost miss it, but I don’t.

“Everything okay, Mom?”

“Yeah… Yeah, everything’s okay. I just had a weird feeling, but I’m okay. Come on,” she says, holding up her hands and laughing at the dirt on her arms. “I want to get cleaned up before playing with that baby girl today.” She smiles and heads inside with a skip to her step.

My mom’s only in her late fifties, my dad early sixties. They had me young and never had luck again having children, though they did try. A lot. She’s healthy for her age, always getting her annual check-ups and doing the tests they offer. She runs a few times a week and tries to eat healthy, even though most of her meals she prepares for us are plate filling, carb loaded, butter drenched goodness. The other days, she’s good.

“Hey Benton, how’s work?” my dad asks, adorned in a tiny silver sparkly tiara that’s making Hannah crack up. She throws a pink boa at him, he takes it, and dramatically tosses it around his neck, rolling his eyes at me and smiling. He loves this shit, even if he acts like it’s annoying having to play with girl things. He was actually the one to buy the items they are playing with right now.

“Fine, fine,” I say, sitting in the recliner to watch the two play. “Busy,” I say, nodding.

I sit there for what seems like hours, just watching my parents play with my little girl. She has to be the luckiest girl around, because, even at the ripe age of sixty, her grandpa is willing to don a princess hat and sip tea with her without a care in the world.

I’m so beyond lucky that Hannah has two healthy grandparents to grow up with. I never really knew my grandparents, and Carly’s parents have wanted nothing to do with Hannah since everything happened. That’s okay with me… I’m not sure I’d be able to handle being around them and remembering everything I lost. It’d be too hard.

The rest of the day we spend playing inside, outside, in the basement… all over the place. By dinner time, we’re all exhausted from chasing Hannah around all day and I don’t want my mom to have to cook for us on her birthday. Heading out for her favorite Chinese restaurant, I call Gabby on the way.

“Hey, you,” I say, when I notice she answered the phone but hasn’t said anything.

Strange.

“Hey,” she mumbles.

“Were you sleeping?” It’s only six pm. She shouldn’t be sleeping already. I hope she’s not getting sick.

“Yeah, I was. What time is it?” she mumbles, the phone scratching on her pillow.

God, what I’d do to be in that bed with her right now.

“Six, babe. You sure you’re okay?”

“Fuck! Shit shit shit, I gotta go, Benton. I’m sorry,” she frantically says, then ends the call before I’m able to say anything else to her.

What the hell?

Shaking off the phone call, I make sure my phone’s on loud when we go into the restaurant just in case Gabby calls me back. Luckily, I have a very open and willing child that loves to try new foods, so taking her here isn’t going to be too big of a pain. She’s pretty chill, unlike some of my friends that I’ve made that have boys her age. I thank God every day she’s so relaxed. I’m not sure what I’d do if I had a crazy child… there’s enough crazy in my life without any of that nonsense.

By the time we’re seated, I’m starving and I can tell Hannah is too. After ordering right away and grabbing her some crackers to munch on, I feel like I can finally relax until our food comes.

“So Benton, tell me,” my mom starts in on me, sipping her tea. “Any girls you’ve been seeing lately?”

She’s smiling sweetly, but I know the meaning behind the question. I know she wants a mother for Hannah. I know she thinks that Hannah needs more female interaction, but that’s not what I think is most important right now. I think she needs to be healthy, happy, and diverse. She needs to be comfortable with anyone, in any situation. I can’t stand the kids that scream every time their parent walks out of the room. My job means I’ll be gone quite a lot, so she’s going to have different babysitters. I don’t want them stressing over her fits every time I walk out the door.

I’m not on the hunt right now for a ‘mom’ for her. I’m on the hunt to start a life with her, with my daughter, with or without a female companion. If it works out that that companion is Gabby, then I’d be over the moon excited, but I’m not holding my breath. I can’t take more heartbreak, even as much as I think I’m starting to love her.

“No, mom,” I lie. “No one since Carly,” I mutter her name like saying it is going to bring back her ghost or something. She’s long gone, and I’ve finally accepted that it’s okay for me to love again. Sure, she was my first love, but she wouldn’t want to see me like I was when it first happened. She would want me happy, not ruined.

Hell, I still remember the first time I ever met Gabby. I’m surprised she even talked to me after what she saw.

***

Knocking on the door, I watch impatiently as the handle doesn’t move. What the fuck, where is she? Maybe this is the wrong address. I scoured for this, bringing in help to find her because, once she moved from the apartment her and Annaliese shared, it was crazy hard to get the new address. This has to be it!

Taking a breath, I turn to leave and hear the handle open and the door squeak. Jackpot. Turning around, my eyes focus in on the most beautiful sight I’ve seen in a very long time. The light pouring in from the bay window behind her, her softly darkened skin glowing and the dark curls falling down her shoulders make her look like an exotic goddess.

“Gabby?” I mutter, flushed from the instant attraction to this woman. She’s eyeballing me like she should be afraid. I don’t blame her. Hell, I bet I look like shit, but I don’t care enough to fix it. The drinking binge I went on last weekend did wonders for me in the looks department, and, now that I’ve not had a drop since, my body hates me even more.

“Who’s asking?” She narrows her eyes at me. Who is this chick, and why does something seem off about her?

“Benton. Benton James,” I stammer when it looks like she’s about to slam the door in my face. She can’t do that, though. I need her if we’re going to get Adam and Annaliese back together. I need her help. When recognition crosses her face, her features relax and she grins.

“Ah yes… Benton James. The fighter.”

“Oh, uh,” I mutter, not expecting that one. How do I tell her my wife died, and I have a kid now, so I had to stop fighting? That’s not exactly a first meet conversation, but this woman is so damn sexy I’m suddenly wishing I can see her again… and there’s that feeling of guilt that I’d be doing wrong to Carly.

She’s dead, Benton. Dead. She’s not coming back.

“I used to be,” I manage through the rage that’s started building inside of me. Rage because I want something, but I’m not letting myself have it because of guilt.

It’s always guilt.

“Well, then, ex fighter Benton James,” she says, resting her hand on her beautiful curve of a hip. “What can I do for you?” She shifts her weight and cocks her eyebrow at me, a silent invitation to come inside.

Maybe another time. Today, I’m on a mission to make my best friend happy again, because both of us can’t be miserable.

“I need your help,” I whisper, locking eye contact with those beautiful brown eyes for the first time.