Page 6 of BJ’s Lost Crayons (Found by Daddy #13)

Glenn

I had to sit in the car for a few minutes before I turned on the engine and pointed the vehicle toward home.

I was prepared to see littles in all their glory at Chained, and while I had enjoyed playing with them, and they were adorable, that was as far as it went since I lost my wife.

Once I left the little room, I didn’t think much more about them.

Nothing could be further from the case in this situation.

It should have been so easy. Knock on door, hand over box, apologize for the mix-up, and go home.

But BJ, as he said his friends called him, was, first, not an old person who had lost their home of fifty years.

He was several years younger than me, and was indeed displaced, but he’d only lived in the building a few years, I gathered.

Not that it made it easier to find a new home and one that was affordable, but his new apartment seemed nicer than the last, so he’d landed on his feet.

And I was glad of that, and none of that was unsettling.

What was a bit was the array of little clothing and other items laid out behind him in the living room.

He was so excited to get his treasures back, he must have forgotten about them for a moment because when he realized, his cheeks burned with rosy color, and I reacted in a way I hadn’t for years.

It was all I could do not to offer to help him get everything organized and put away so we could sit down and have chickie nuggies and mac and cheese for dinner.

Actually, Sally hadn’t been that into little food unless she was really in the headspace, but seeing the onesies and sippy cups and adorable T-shirts threw me right into daddy space.

And, of course, this daddy wanted him to realize there was no reason to be embarrassed, leading to my opening up to a total stranger who I had only a small business connection with about my little and her tragic passing.

It was a lot, and I lay awake most of the night trying to sort out my thoughts.

“I blame you.” I stared down into my salad as if it held the answers to all my questions. “Just so you know.” Sitting on the outside patio of a restaurant not far from my warehouse, we had met for lunch. I needed advice from another daddy—or at least a listening ear.

“Blame whomever you want, but it was bound to happen. You are too good a daddy to be alone forever.” Bridger lifted his iced tea and took a sip. “What a coincidence that you’d get there and see all his little items in plain sight. Sounds a little like fate.”

“Sounds like he wasn’t expecting company. I called to let him know I was coming, but he didn’t pick up. Turned out, he hadn’t found his charger yet, and his phone was dead.”

“Did he think that was lost in the move, too?”

“No, he was pretty sure it was in one of the kitchen boxes. But I told him if it didn’t turn up, we’d pay for it.”

“Of course. That’s how you roll. But tell me more about what happened next. You did tell him you’re a daddy?”

“I normally wouldn’t have that kind of discussion with a business contact, but he was so red, and I couldn’t just let him die of embarrassment. I did admit I’d had a little before, and he asked me if I’d left them behind. Bridger, he is so cute and so nice, and I hate that he was hurt.”

“Yes, but if his previous daddy didn’t leave, how would he be single so you can ask him out?” Bridger’s sandwich arrived, and he waited until the server left before continuing. “That didn’t come out right. I never like to see a little hurt.”

“I know what you meant, and I appreciate your loyalty. But I’m not so sure I can ask him out. I only know him through my business, and I’ve always tried to avoid mixing that with my personal life.”

Bridger ate a few bites of his sandwich, and I managed one of salad before he answered me. “I would say that your business with this customer is concluded. It’s not likely that he will be needing you to move him on a regular basis, is it?”

“No. At least, he didn’t say so.”

“Then, you should be able to ask him out with no qualms. That is, if you still want to after all this talking about it.”

“So, you don’t think he’d consider it weird if I did?”

Bridger finished his sandwich and pushed the plate aside. He reached into his pouch and pulled out his crocheting. “I can’t get this badger just right. The striping is eluding me.”

“Looks good to me.”

He shrugged. “It will eventually. I have no way of knowing what the little will think when you ask him out, but there’s only one way to learn the answer.

Ask him out and see how he reacts. Worst case, he says no and you’re no worse off than you are now.

But best-case scenario…” He didn’t need to finish.

We both knew what could happen if it went well. But was I ready for it?

Bridger pulled out his wallet and tossed a few bills on the table. “Don’t overthink it. You were caught off guard by the whole situation, and you can let it simmer and see how you feel.”

“You’re right.” Bridger generally was. “But the situation stirred up a lot of feelings. Until now, nobody has made much of a dent in my barricades.”

“At least you’re recognizing that they’re there.” He stood up. “I have an appointment with a new dying company. Some of the colors we’re using in the kits aren’t as vivid as I’d like, and these people claim they can do better with natural dyes instead of those petroleum-based ones.”

“That sounds wonderful.” I forked up some lettuce. “Can they do that?”

He shrugged. “I’m hoping so. But we’ll see. Enjoy the rest of your lunch.”

“Thanks. And thanks for listening. I’m sure I’m boring you to tears.”

“Anything but, friend.” He took a step away then stopped and turned back. “And while I’ve got you, I want to invite you to the silent auction at Chained on Friday. It’s for a good cause.”

“Oh, sure. I guess.” I would show up for sweet charity. “I’ll see you then.”

After he left, I continued eating, and overthinking the whole little situation. I had to get past feeling disloyal to my late wife. She would want me to be happy. Had made such a point of it. And then I realized something.

A high likelihood existed that, rather than guilt over her, I was allowing myself to be held back by another emotion entirely.

One no less useful but a bit more embarrassing.

Anyone might understand a widower not wanting to remarry because they felt disloyal, despite what their late love said, but some might judge me for not moving on into a new relationship out of fear.

Her heart attack had come out of nowhere, at a time when we were discussing having a child.

She was at the high end of the time to do that and didn’t want to miss out on the experience.

As for me…I was okay either way, but her joy was mine.

And then, she was gone, taking with her, all the plans we had for a future with or without children.

I’d have been fine going along exactly as we were for the rest of our lives.

And I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to survive that kind of loss again. But I did know that the way I lived now was seriously lacking. Carrot did the best he could, but he was a rabbit and I needed human companionship.

Was I brave enough to let down the wall and try again?