Page 98 of Accidental Blind Date

“Well, no shit,” she says rather loudly for being in an elementary school. “What is he going to do?”

“That’s why I’m here. You work with kids, you must see things like this all the time.”

“I mean I see a lot of divorce induced custody battles but not a lot of this. Not unless there is abuse involved, and the family is stepping in. Surely the wicked witch isn’t claiming he’s abusive.”

“I don’t think so. But if I had to guess she is going to claim that he’s neglectful.”

“It’s 2025! We’re full-time job working parents! We’re all a little neglectful. But those girls are loved and taken care of. I’ve seen it over the years, both before and since his wife’s death.”

“So, you can help us?” I ask, perking up at the possibility of hope.

“I can testify in his favor if that’s what you’re asking. Absolutely. I’ll also look into the other options, things he should keep in mind. Sadly enough, us teachers work pretty closely withsocial services. And in the meantime, tell him to get a lawyer. The best he can afford. Also, you being in the picture is going to work in his favor.”

“How so?” I ask.

“If the court sees him in a serious, steady relationship it will make him look more stable as a parent.”

I hadn’t thought about that. If anything, I was worried that Dax having a girlfriend might make it more complicated.

I hug my friend and make my way back out. The fact Dax even needs a lawyer to keep his own kids is sickening. But I’m with Joni. We are going to testify and fight for this family. They belong together…and I belong with them.

Later that evening I snag a table for two at Mulligan’s Irish Pub. It’s downtown, right in the heart of everything and it is slammed. People are circled around the bar, and every table is taken. I’m lucky to have gotten a table at all. I almost text Dax to ask if he wants to go somewhere else, somewhere quieter, but I realize noisy might be better. If either of us is going to get upset, which is likely to happen considering the circumstances, it’s better if it isn’t in some haughty, quiet, white tablecloth kind of place.

The waitress appears with a smile, and I do my best to smile back. She sets a water and a gin and tonic down in front of me. I blink and look back up at her. “Oh. That isn’t mine. Though I do want to order one.”

“Actually, it was ordered for you,” she says.

I turn in my chair looking for Dax but I’m pretty sure if he was already here he would have texted me. “I didn’t think he was here yet,” I say.

The waitress just continues to smile, then leans in a little and whispers, “It’s from the gentleman at the end of the bar. The one looking over here.”

I glance over and it takes me a second, but I recognize him. He’s the guy I saw when I was with Joni, the one who kept looking over at me. The one Joni said I should ask out.

“Oh,” I say, unsure what else I’m supposed to do. Before I can tell her I can’t accept the drink, she hands me a menu.

“I’ll let you look this over and come check on you in a few.”

I watch her walk away, then look back over at the man who is still staring. I’m not sure why he’s so interested but he is. I’m wearing a navy-blue cotton dress with coral flowers on it. I’ve had it for years and it’s nothing special. My hair is down and curly from the humidity and not styled. Yet here I am, very much not single and very much being hit on.

Finally, I decide to take the drink back to him.

I get up, flatten my dress, pick up the drink before even taking a first sip and head over to the tall, blonde man at the end of the bar who is sipping on an Old Fashioned.

“Hi,” I say, standing next to him. I don’t take a seat but I’m also not going to be rude.

“Hi,” he says back with a warm smile and it’s funny because he almost looks familiar, even outside of the night Joni and I saw him. Though I can’t pinpoint why.

“Listen. I know you’re trying to start a conversation, and it was sweet of you to buy me a drink, but I can’t accept.”

“Oh. Did I get the drink wrong?” he asks.

I smile. “No, actually you hit the nail on the head. And considering the day I’ve had, I considered guzzling it down the second it hit the table.”

“Well pull up a stool and you still can. I’ll even order you a second one if it makes the day better.”

He is sweet. But obviously, I can’t. “I’m not alone,” I tell him.

The man glances around my shoulder over at my empty table. “No?” he asks.