Page 51 of Accidental Blind Date

“Book ladies are always nice,” I say. And then I stop.

Because on the other side of the sea of children is said book lady. A woman with long dark hair. A beautiful smile and bright eyes and a yellow blouse. Her energy is like the sun, central andgravitating. And all the puzzle pieces begin to form a picture I didn’t even know I was looking at.

And now, I can’t look away.

“We found him!” Poppy says as we stop right in front of the counter.

Right in front of the book lady.

Right in front of Libby.

“You did,” she says. She is avoiding my eyes like the plague, but I can’t for the life of me stop staring at her.

“He’s going to pay for our books,” Poppy says. Poppy is five and she is all the fire of her mother swirled into one tiny capsule.

“He is,” Delilah adds. “Dad?”

It occurs to me then, after my almost nine-year-old gives me a hard look, that I need to take my wallet out of my pocket.

“Right. Of course. You need money,” I say, shoving my hand in the back pocket of my jeans.

“It would help, yes,” Libby says with a small smile. A forced one. A confused and lost and caught off guard one.

For maybe the first time, we have something in common-

We are speechless.

“That will be $29.43.” She says.

“For two books,” I say and regret it immediately. Because as soon as I say it, she gives me a look. A half smile, half brow raise.

“For two really good books,” Libby smiles at the girls and not me.

“I got Little House on the Prairie,” Delilah says.

“Also, a great pick,” Libby says with animation in her voice. It’s not forced, it’s not fake. And it’s making my heart hurt in places that are closed to the public.

I swallow hard.

“I am almost done with all of them!” Delilah exclaims.

“You are,” I agree because I’m not completely dense to what is going on. “What is this, the 7th?”

“The 8th, dad,” she corrects me. “And there’s only 9 in the series.”

“What are you going to read next?” Libby asks, her eyes flickering up to mine only momentarily. Not enough for me to read her expression or reaction to the current shitshow that is her finding out I’m a dad.

“I don’t know,” Delilah says dramatically. “I will probably have a book hangover.”

“Delilah,” I snap but Libby just laughs. Really laughs.

“That is a feeling I know all too well,” she says, “But in your case…I recommend Anne of Green Gables.”

“I think I’ve heard of that,” Delilah says.

“You’re the book lady!” Poppy says again, pointing at Libby. “From the book shop!”

“How do you know that?” I ask with a nervous laugh. Am I blushing? Surely not.