Page 56 of The Dating Charade

All beautiful bubbly little videos.

Life as she knew it as a black-and-white world now shifted to color. Nothing in her own life, not one thing, was unaffected by the fact she was choosing, wholeheartedly, to raise these kids. Not one thing.

But two points had to be discussed.

The kids had to choose her too—in particular Star. Any child fourteen or older had to consent to the adoption. Did she—did they—even want her?

Second, she had to tell Jett. This was no longer a potential reality; it was her future, and if he was as interested as he acted in her, it was only fair to tell him the truth.

The smell of gardenias from that night those years ago suddenly overwhelmed her, the feel of her fingers against the brown tweed of Matt’s suit while he looked her in the face, telling her flatly he no longer wanted her.

Cassie felt her confidence wane as her hands gripped the vanity.

Five years she had committed to that man. Through two blissful, adventurous years of college, through the painful months she sat by the phone, waiting for every one of his late-night calls while he “found himself” in Colorado. Through graduate school when they ate buttered noodles off paper plates like they were kings and queens. Through it all, she’d stuck by his side.

But then Matt hadn’t wanted her, as he’d informed her days after a surgery revealed her life would be changed forever. Was the timing pure coincidence? Maybe. Had their relationship already sagged from issues they kept pushing on the back burner? Certainly.

But she’d seen his face when she told him she couldn’t have children herself anymore. She’d felt the coldness grow in the following weeks.

Now, here she was, with the forecast of a home not empty but filled to the brim. But at its core was a replica of the conflict that had first broken her heart. No matter how nice Jett was now, the fact remained: he’d stated very clearly he wasn’t interested in the sort of family life she was about to lead. Could he change his mind? Could she persuade him? Sure. Maybe. Possibly. But, again, their relationship had barely begun.

If she thought about what she’d really known about Matt in that first month of their relationship, it’d come to this: zero. Jett was charming and sweet and funny and responsible and all these great things, and part of her felt that he would respond to the truth of the situation with an enthusiastic open mind. Part of her dreamed that he would fall in love with the girls, just as much as she had. Part of her hoped they would get their family cross-stitched together on a pillow, holding hands. But there was still a problem: she was going off of a perception of him built upon mere weeks.

If she adopted the girls, she would have to come to terms with the reality that she might be single forever. However scarce the possibility of her falling in love and getting married was before, well, now it definitely rested solely on the shoulders of a miracle maker.

She stripped off a paper towel and wiped the mascara beneath her eyes, then tipped her chin up, staring at herself in the mirror. Put her hand against her flat waistline—unaffected, for the first time in years, by the thought of the scars hidden underneath.

She had tacked on another fifteen minutes to her long-overdue pickup by the time she again pulled open the door to the gymnasium and stepped inside. The man she’d spoken with before saw her and practically jumped over a stack of chairs to get away. He nudged a woman, and the woman, after some prodding, made her way toward Cassie.

Kids were playing a game of Mr. Fox on one side of the gym while several teens shot hoops on the other. Beside the stage, a couple of platinum-blond toddlers chased Kennedy in circles around Star and Deidre. One of the children, a toddler boy running madly with one sock on, threw his arms around Kennedy. She giggled with his hands locked behind her neck, turned, and the chase started again in reverse.

That is, until Star pulled on the sleeve of Deidre’s sweater and gave a furtive glance to three teen girls standing six feet off. They chatted wildly among themselves, shifting from one hip to the other in colorful leggings and matching pairs of furry boots. Cassie hadn’t thought twice when Star put on her worn-out turquoise Chucks this morning. At the Haven, Chucks were the norm, rain or shine. But of course, Star wouldn’t care. She was one of those who led the pack, not followed along blindly in it.

Listen to her, she was pulling all the proud mom moves already.

The three girls laughed loudly, and Star turned her face away. When Kennedy ran by again, she snagged her by the dress and set Kennedy on her lap on the ground.

“Want to play a game?” Cassie read Star’s lips as she watched her pull a wrapper from her jeans. Star rolled it into a ball, then hid it in one of her fists. She knocked both fists together, and Kennedy’s eyes lit up, trying to guess where it was hiding. The two furry-headed blond children stopped, quick to follow in the new game.

Enough of this. She could stand in the corner watching them all day, smiling as she watched her three soon-to-be daughters be their normal, delightful selves. But then that would scare the poor man off volunteering in the children’s ministry forever, and she was too anxious to get them into her arms anyway.

Cassie called out to the three of them, her smile as high as her waving arm. “Hey, guys! Time to go!”

Star’s gaze lifted to Cassie. The wadded ball dropped to the floor as she stood and lifted Kennedy onto her hip. Her hand reached out for Deidre while Kennedy waved goodbye to the toddlers.

The trio began walking toward Cassie.

Then, without slowing, they walked right on past her, Star turning at the last moment to knock Cassie’s shoulder, hard, along the way.

16

Jett

Radiator fluid leaked all over the pavement, and all Jett could think was how Drew would’ve loved to be a fireman on this call. He would’ve pressed his hand against the neon-green fluid, probably would’ve licked it when Jett wasn’t looking. Then he would’ve chased all the white-feathered chickens clucking hysterically around the sideways truck leaning against a tree. He would’ve splashed his feet in the freezing-cold brook where a headlight lay submerged, glowing like hidden gold.

This Norton Creek crash site would’ve been a downright playground.

Overturned and opened cages littered the mountainous road as he walked past the exposed undercarriage of the vehicle. Even that looked like a gigantic Hot Wheels (Drew really was hacking into his brain these days) with bumper stickers slapped all over the backside of the jacked-up, three-quarter-ton diesel.