The Player and the Single Mom

“You have a fourteen-year-old? Girl, I need your anti-aging secrets. I would have never guessed you were old enough to have a fourteen-year-old.”

I was genuinely flattered. “Thank you so much. I feel like I’m a thousand years old.”

She laughed. “Tell me about it. I just turned forty. I’m not loving it.” She handed us our passports back and slapped some stickers on our suitcases. Then she gave Cash additional stickers and spoke directly to him. “You have priority access so just follow the signs at security. Have fun in the sun and don’t get too crazy or you’ll come back with baby number four.”

“No,” I said, waving my hand back and forth vigorously. “No, no, no.”

Cash laughed. “I think we know her feelings on that subject,” he told the agent.

“Jesus, don’t even tempt fate,” I said, before I remembered that I couldn’t get pregnant. Well, I probably technically could but with extreme medical intervention, thousands upon thousands of dollars and repeated failures like I’d had before Marigold. But the woman had brought up a fear I hadn’t even had before to pile on top of the seven other things that were making me nervous. I sipped my coffee again, wishing it had whiskey in it.

My nerves were shot.

We both thanked her, Cash with a carry-on on each of his shoulders. He put his hand on the small of my back and guided me in the direction of security.

“I’m freaking out,” I said.

“Why? Because she thought we were a couple? You’re just upset that she didn’t validate your exaggerated age gap theory of why we shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Well. Yes. That’s true. But I have something to tell you. I’ve never flown before.”

Cash stopped walking and stared down at me. “Seriously? Okay. Well, it’s going to be totally fine, I promise. I fly almost every single week and nothing bad has ever happened.”

I rubbed my stomach, flipping the waistband of my leggings down. “Oh God, my stomach hurts. I feel sick. Like I’m going to throw up.” I ripped off my winter coat. “It’s really damn hot in here.”

“Stop drinking that coffee,” he said, taking the cup out of my hand. “Caffeine can’t be good for nerves.”

“That’s true.” I breathed in and out deeply. I should have at least tried Helena’s meditation with her. This was punishment for being internally snarky.

“Why don’t you go change into your sundress now?” he said. “That way nothing will be pressing on your stomach.”

It wasn’t a bad idea. “Okay. I’ll be right back. Or wait, should we go through security first? I don’t want to mess up our timing.”

“Whatever you want to do.”

“Let’s go through security first.” I needed to get past that hurdle. I had visions of being whisked off to a secret room for a body cavity search.

Cash took my hand and gave me a verbal rundown on what I needed to do and what was going to happen. His big frame and low reassuring words helped calm me down. He told the TSA security guard at the front of the line before the scanner that it was my first time flying. There was something so chill and friendly about Cash that people responded positively to him. The guard was reassuring to Cash as he went through first that he’d explain everything to me, and he did, with a pleasant smile and patience.

Another guard stopped me at the end to check my necklace on the monitor. There was an outline of my body. I could have done without the visual reminder on the screen of what childbirth had done to my hips, but otherwise in minutes I was back in my shoes and on my way. Cash was waiting for me with both of our bags and my purse.

“All good?” he asked, running his hand up and down my back like I did my kids when they were sick.

I nodded. “What now?”

“Why don’t you go change then we can head to the gate. Are you hungry?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Do you mind if we go to a restaurant so I can eat or will that make you feel sick?”

“That’s totally fine.” I took my carry-on from him and gave him a smile. “You really are a nice guy, do you know that? You’re being very sweet.”

He was. Which was why I trusted him. He wasn’t going to make me feel stupid for not having the most current sexual moves or lingo. He wasn’t going to make me feel like I needed to explain away my stretch marks, C-section scar, or any other perceived body imperfections. I mean, I would explain them because they bothered me, but I felt confident he wouldn’t expect me to.

This wasn’t just about getting a couple of orgasms.

It was about getting past that hurdle of the first time after John. In a way, it was good that I wasn’t emotionally invested in Cash. What if I fell in love at some point in the future then tried to have sex for the first time? There would be too much riding on it.

This with Cash was safe.

He just nodded.

I paused, not sure what else to say. I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted to kiss him. I opened my mouth, but Cash didn’t give me a chance to speak.

“I’ll be in the store,” he said, and turned and walked off.