Just My Type(54)

She picked out the perfect outfit that was me. Casually sexy—casual being the keyword. I will always be a country girl at heart, no matter where I live, and I will never be comfortable going to fancy places, even if they do have amazing breadbaskets. It should calm my nerves that Blake didn’t dress me in a slinky, tight-fitting dress I can’t breathe in—goodbye requesting a third free breadbasket—with uncomfortable heels, where I’ll have to smile through the excruciating pain, and a sleek hairstyle with a shit-ton of hairspray. My outfit means we aren’t going somewhere fancy and uncomfortable. Somewhere casual and relaxed is just my speed.

I should just be concentrating on how casual and relaxed I am, and how the possibility of a repeat bathroom performance is a guarantee. This one ending with a finale, instead of getting cut-off midseason by a kid who has to poop. Not worrying about official first date jitters.

“Lincoln tells me you’re seeing someone.”

Brandon’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts, and I blink my eyes a few times to remember where I am and what’s going on.

Dammit, Baker and his voodoo magic.

“The guy you were interviewing… Baker, I think he said his name was,” Brandon continues, staring down at his feet, making this just as awkward as I expected him to. “Lincoln wouldn’t stop talking about him from the minute he got in the car, and about how great he is.”

I think about Baker’s concern in the beginning about me having childcare, and I think about how nervous he was to meet Lincoln, and I think about Baker playing hide-and-seek all night with Lincoln, and I think about the two of them arguing good-naturedly about baseball over pizza, and I think about the birthday party and how at one point during the evening, Baker and Lincoln took over the television, turned on Baker’s PlayStation, and the two of them sat side-by-side laughing and calling each other names while they played some racing game.

It was like that scene from the end of Forest Gump where Forest and Little Forest are sitting in front of the TV, and they both tilt their heads to the side at the same time, and those tears are there and you have to swallow them back, and you are fighting them, man.

Except in this version, Lincoln was calling Baker a trash gremlin, and Baker was shoving Lincoln’s arm, telling him he sucked times infinity, and I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. So, I shoveled an entire pink cupcake in my mouth at one time and ate my feelings.

I should be freaking out that Lincoln told Brandon we’re dating, when I haven’t even had time to sit down and talk to Lincoln about it, since I just accepted that we’re dating, ohhh, like an hour ago. Except Baker is great. And Lincoln hasn’t stopped talking about how great he is to me either since the birthday party. I have no reason to freak out. I’m pretty sure I’ve had a large hand in raising a smart child who is an excellent judge of character, and who wouldn’t be telling his father all about the guy after just two interactions if he really thought he was a trash gremlin.

“Anyway, I’m really happy for you, Ember. Like I said, you look great,” Brandon tells me, finally looking up from his shoes to give me a megawatt smile, which I quickly realize that, along with his compliments, are a lame attempt to butter me up. “Listen, about next weekend…” Brandon trails off, sliding one of his hands through his hair to smooth down some of the errant strands, adding a little apology and sheepishness to his smile.

I know exactly how he’s going to end that sentence, and no amount of him trying to look fake-sincere about it is going to make what he has to say any better.

“I need to cancel. Something came up at work,” Brandon finishes, holding both his hands palm-up, out to his sides in a shrug, with a What are you gonna do? look on his stupid fucking face.

He thinks that, because I’m seeing someone, I’ve gone soft again, just like I did when I was with him. He has no clue that Baker makes me anything but soft.

I suddenly feel closer now to Ron Jeremy than ever before. I want to start clicking and hissing at the dipshit standing in front of me.

I’ve started to get a backbone here and there with Brandon on certain things, but I’ve held my tongue each time he’s had to cancel on Lincoln, or flaked out on picking him up or dropping him off. Divorce is hard enough without me being a shrew every time he does something stupid, and I didn’t want to argue with him and force him to spend time with his own son. So, I kept my mouth shut, no matter how pissed I was.

“He’s strong enough to help you carry that baggage wherever you need it to go, for however long you need to lug it around.”

Blake’s words in my head make me narrow my eyes and glare at Brandon, his arms immediately falling, right along with his stupid fucking smile. I’m already starting to feel a little lighter in the baggage area, just thinking about Baker. Which means I am now rightfully pissed.

“You specifically asked me to switch weekends with you over a month ago, because you booked a room for you and Lincoln at some hotel. I even wrote it on my calendar,” I remind him, my annoyance rising when I think of all the times I’ve made accommodations for this man.

“It’s the Grand Geneva Resort and Spa.” Brandon scoffs. “I booked us the fourteen-hundred square foot Grand Suite, and it has the best amenities—”

“I don’t give a shit about the square footage, Brandon,” I cut him off. “That’s not the point. This is the last time you’re going to cancel on your son without a better excuse than your stupid fucking job. Acceptable excuses for you to cancel on your one and only child are severe accidents involving a severed limb with enough blood loss to make it impossible to move, and or actual death.”