“Yeah, but you turned out so nice, compared to them,” I say.
“We can’t really choose what personalities we come with,” she tells me. “I mean, maybe to some extent, we can, but I think I was just ‘blessed’ or ‘cursed’ with the gift of kindness, whichever way you want to look at it. Your Uncle Bob is business savvy and got rich off of driving a hard bargain—”
Don’t I know it, I think—
“—your mom has her religion and her close-knit religious community to lean on—”
—and the bottle, too, I think—
“—and your Uncle Steve was some kind of hippie who believed in letting life just happen to him and going with the flow. He had no desire to care about anyone else or how his behavior affected us, but that in and of itself was a protection mechanism. A way to cope. So, sometimes, I think maybe that I’m too nice – that if I were able to get out from under the weight of caring about everyone else’s problems more than my own, that maybe I’d have had a better life. But then I look at little Maxim and know that means I likely wouldn’t have had him in my life, so, I think everything is turning out exactly as it should.”
I think so, too, I think, as I try to surreptitiously check my phone, since what she said obviously made me think about Derek.
Sure enough, there’s a text from him, which must have come in when we were playing on the swings, because I had been checking all last night and this morning.
My heart leaps as I read it.
Happy Mother’s Day! I hope you have a great day, beautiful. You deserve it!
And then there’s an emoji of flowers to accompany the words.
I quickly text him back, Thanks. So far so good!
Apparently, I’m smiling, because my aunt asks, “What’s the good news in your text messages?”
I look up at her, taken aback and not sure if I should tell her about Derek.
“Ummm…”
“Come on!” she guesses. “You met someone. I know that look anywhere. And don’t think you can hold out on me. I just spilled my guts to you; it’s your turn to let me know the scoop.”
“Okay,” I laugh, because she does have a point. “Well, I know this is ridiculously fast, but I just met him yesterday, at…” I pause, not wanting to tell her all the sordid details, “…the bakery. He came in and it was like, love at first sight, as crazy as that sounds.”
“That doesn’t sound crazy at all,” she says. “Some people are with someone their whole lives and never feel that feeling.”
“That’s true,” I tell her, thinking of my mom.
Suddenly I’m really glad it didn’t work out at all with Maxim’s dad and me, or else I never would have met Derek. I might have been stuck in a miserable marriage like my mom and dad.
I feel my phone vibrate in my hand with another text, so I look down and see that he says, “Any chance we can meet up? I already miss you.”
My mouth turns to the side in a half-smile, half-frown, as I look at it.
“What’s Romeo have to say?” my aunt asks.
“He wants to meet up,” I tell her.
“Well, tell him to swing by!” she says. “No time like the present for him to meet Maxim, and me, right? We’ll see if this is really meant to be, by how he reacts to the three of us. A lot of men can’t handle that kind of pressure, and you’d rather find out now than later, after you’ve invested more into the relationship, right?”
“True,” I tell her, thinking that my aunt is a genius.
But mostly, I’m just happy for the permission to see Derek again, on what was supposed to be a day spent alone with Aunt Barb and Maxim.
“If you don’t mind meeting my milk monster and my aunt who helps me with him, you can come by Memorial Park,” I text Derek back.
“MIND? I’d LOVE to!” he quickly responds.
I smile big now, not trying to hide it.
“I really hope you like him,” I tell Aunt Barb.
“If you like him, I like him, honey,” she says with a smile. “And I can tell you do. I haven’t seen you look this happy in a long time.”
She’s right about that – but she doesn’t know just how much I like him – or more.
Chapter 11 Jocelyn
Not even thirty minutes later, Derek shows up, and he’s not alone. He’s brought along an adorable dog. And some flowers.
“Hello, gorgeous,” he says, giving me a kiss on the cheek and handing me roses.
“Hi,” I say, while my aunt raises her eyebrows approvingly.
“And these are for you, if you’re her aunt?” Derek asks, looking suspiciously at Aunt Barbara. “Jocelyn told me she was here with her aunt, but you look way too young to fit that description.”
“Well, thank you,” Aunt Barbara says, as he places some daffodils in her arms. “I’m not that much older than her.”
“I can tell,” Derek says, and then holds out his hand to him. “I’m Derek.”
“And I’m Barbara. It’s great to meet you.”
And then Derek looks down at Maxim, who is sleeping in my lap, and says, “And this must be Mr. Handsome. At least, that’s what he looks like to me.”
“Thanks,” I tell him, smiling. “His name is Maxim.”
“Maxim. A name fit for a warrior.”
His little terrier dog is jumping all around, half barking, half whining, wanting his attention.
“And this is Squeaky,” he says. “He’s not as cute as Maxim but he’s all I’ve got.”
“He sure is adorable,” I say, while Aunt Barbara nods.
Derek takes a ball out of his pocket and throws it, which is the only
