Page 7 of Not How I Saw That Going

“Cindy Livingston called. Her daughter, Marilee, is home visiting for a few weeks. I know how you’ve always liked her.”

I roll my eyes and stand. Caleb mimics almost word for word what my mother is saying, minus the correct names.

“So, anyway, I set up a date for the two of you. Thursday at Leonardo’s. Six sharp. Don’t be late.” Then she hangs up.

She could have been talking to my voicemail and she never would have noticed.

“Did your mom find me another date?” Caleb smirks.

“Yup. Leonardo’s on Thursday.” I say mechanically.

My mom sets me up on dates, then Caleb goes, pretending to be me. If things work out, he tells them, if not… Well, let’s just say, there are a whole bunch of girls in Arizona who hate Ward Preston, and that only makes it easier for me. Even if I wasn’t against the entire dating thing, no girl would want me anyway. I’ve seen things in the war, done things in the war, that I can’t undo. Stuff that comes with me wherever I go. I don’t need that kind of third wheel on a date I don’t want to be on anyway. I’m doing them a favor by sending Caleb. He’s fun. Happy. Nice. All the things I’m not.

“Who is it this time?” Caleb opens the freezer and takes out another bag of cheese.

How did he finish the first one?

“Marilee Livingston?” I don’t even remember who she is. If I had a crush on her, it was well before high school.

Caleb tosses the cheese back into the freezer. “Oh. Yikes. Nope.”

“What?”

“I might have had a little fling with her once upon a time. Didn’t end well.”

Well, there goes my escape route. “Why am I not surprised?”

He grabs a Coke from the fridge and cracks it. “Feel free to hit me up with the next one though.”

“There won’t be a next one.”

“Yeah right, man. I know the great Claire Preston. You’re no match.”

I scoff. I can stand up to my mother. That’s why I enlisted in the military with Caleb in the first place—a combination of pent-up teenage angst and control issues. I did the most rebellious thing I could and entered one of the most controlled operations in the world.

Little good it did me. I came back even more disappointed in the world and carrying sins so large I can see them in my shadow.

Watching that woman with her little boy today was the first time I’d felt the darkness lift in weeks. She could have yelled at her child—no one would have blamed her—but instead she held him close and spoke to him with respect. Like he was her treasure. It reminded me that there is good in the world.

Completely opposite from the crowd of people, watching and judging her, when she was just trying her best. There were even a few teenagers with their phones out, recording the whole thing, probably hoping to get a few likes online. But no one had moved an inch to help.

Everybody wants the world to be a better place, but no one is willing to break the mold and fix it themselves.

I see it every day.

My brother-in-law calls me a pessimist. But I’m simply a realist. I’ve seen too much of this awful world to not be.

Maybe I am a pessimist. Which is the last thing the beautiful mom from the grocery store needs. The last thing any woman needs.

Three

Lyndi

I’mstillthinkingaboutthe handsome stranger two days later when my hand hits the bottom of the Swedish Fish bag.

Shoot. Crew is going to be upset when he wakes up from his nap. And two of those three pounds worth of Swedish fish will be sitting on my thighs for the next year.

I should be thanking the stranger. He fed Crew and I for nearly forty-eight hours.