Page 66 of The Love Dose

Paul is still there when I emerge, waiting in the car as if knowing I would still need him. I hop into the backseat and tell Paul where to go. I have an important and terrifying stop to make.

Chapter Forty-Six

Calvin

Afrisbee zips past my head, when the intercom buzzes. My life is pure pandemonium. Blissfully so. I’m expecting a delivery of clothes and school supplies for Chacha. Unless I’m forced to go to the mall, I’ll rely on online shopping. Figuring out sizes and how much to buy are not part of my skill set. If only I had someone to help with this kind of stuff.

I punch the intercom button and check on Chacha. Having abandoned the frisbee, he's sitting in his pajamas, a foot away from the television screen, his jaw slack, his eyes glazing over, watching old Flintstones cartoons. I’ll need to set some limits. I make a mental note to speak with other parents and ask them for advice.

A bowl of cold oatmeal is on the kitchen table, untouched. “Go eat your breakfast, sweetheart.”

No reaction. The boy is hypnotized.

The doorbell to my apartment chimes and I fling open the door.

Caroline stands there, her eyes wide, a bag in her hand. “Hi,” she says, looking as stunned as I feel.

“Um, hi.”

She looks beautiful, calmer, the lines around her eyes, softer.

We stand in the doorway for a beat. She says, “May I come in?”

I clear my throat. “Sure, if you’re okay with a tornado.”

My place looks like a boatload of pirates came through, pillaging for hidden treasure.

Caroline steps inside and stops short. Chacha is standing in front of her, his hand extended. “Hullo.”

Apparently, Caroline has the power to break television’s hold on my child.

Caroline shakes Chacha’s hand.

“Who are you?” he asks.

“Caroline Page. And you must be Chacha.”

“Yes, ma’am. Chacha Sinclair. The pleasure is mine.”

He’s been watching too many old movies on the classics channel.

Caroline laughs lightly and my heart leaps. I move Chacha’s blue and white elephant from the sofa and offer her a seat. She glances at the toy. I bought it the day I came back to town, when we stopped at the toy store. So much has happened since then.

“What brings you by?” I sound casual when I feel anything but.

She’s right here, close enough to touch, but it feels like there’s an ocean between us. My heart still races for her, but the cracks in our relationship remind me that love might not be enough to bridge the gap.

Yes, love.

“I found the perfect gift for you.” She hands me the bag and I pull out a record cover.

“Wow.”

It’s a Bob Dylan vinyl collectible. “I don’t have this one.”

“I know.”

“This was very thoughtful,” I say, truly excited to own this musical gem.