My Bestie's Dad

I pretend not to get it.

“Yeah, I imagine it would be.”

She mock-frowns again.

“Are you sure there’s no one I should or shouldn’t know about, Janie?”

“What are you talking about?” I ask innocently.

She gives up the game and smiles. “It would be a lot easier if you were a mom soon too, then I could share all this stuff with my best girl, and—”

I choke on my coffee as she pats my back.

“I’m not even dating anyone, Harlow! What makes you think babies are on my mind?”

“I see how you are with Fannie and Freddie. I see that yearning in your eye,” she explains.

I sigh.

“I’m busy enjoying single life and besides, and it’s not as though I have my own CEO to pay for babies and a mansion. Our lives are radically different now, Harlow.”

She nods and admits, “Well, it’s not like everything is perfect for me. I still can’t get rid of this baby weight. I’ve put on fifty pounds from my pregnancies, and no matter what I do, I can’t get rid of it.”

“And Gray can’t keep his hands off of you, girl. I don’t think you need to worry about it.”

She blushes, “I guess not. But still, I had to get a whole new wardrobe and my feet are a size bigger—”

“Oh no!” I mock her in a silly voice, “I’m still gorgeous, my sexy husband adores me, and now, I have to shop for a size 8 shoe! My life is a travesty!”

She giggles. “You bitch. What about online dating? How’s that going?”

I shoot her a sassy smile.

“It’s the only way people meet each other these days. It’s perfect, like you get someone’s dealbreakers and values right up front, and it cuts the time of getting to know someone by months.”

“And…?” she asks, eyebrows raised

“On-line dating is terrible!” I laugh. “I haven’t met anyone worth a follow-up text since college. And there are no dateable guys at work. At our insurance agency, we cater to women and to do that successfully, you employ women. No one wants their insurance mansplained to them.”

Harlow marvels at these revelations.

“I know it’s only been a few years, but I already feel so out of touch with how dating is. Online dating seems like it should be easier than that because you’re just sitting at a desk, right? And your co-workers at the insurance agency must know some eligible men.”

I make a wry face.

“They might, but honestly, I’m just focusing on getting the office manager gig. I don’t want to screw that up by dating someone’s brother, friend, uncle, anything, you know?”

“That makes sense,” she nods. “Wait, didn’t you have a date recently? Gerald Toomey?”

“Harold Mooney.”

She smiles, “Yeah, him! I remember because his name sounds like a TV character from I Love Lucy.”

I laugh. “Well, he might as well have been. He had insane halitosis and a cowlick that makes his hair go something like this,” I hold my hand up like a fan at the back of my head.

She laughs. “Oh, no! My poor Janie!”

“I will not be seeing him again. I don’t even think he uses any product to tame it. Or if he does, he should use way more than what he currently has in his hair. I swear, he has an enormous brown peacock stuck to his crown!”

We giggle companionably and I remember just how much I love Harlow. My friend is easy to adore because she’s so down to earth and real. I crave the life she has, but unfortunately, I have no idea how to get it.

After all, Jane’s lucked out. She started dating her dad’s business partner, Gray Jamison, during a summer internship at Kombuchaid. One thing led to another, and now she and Gray are married with two adorable kids. I wish I could have a summer internship like that, except it’s too late because I’ve already graduated from college.

Nonetheless, the thought of that summer internship brings Brent Marshall to my mind because he’s co-CEO of Kombuchaid with Gray. It’s so wrong because Brent is Jane’s dad, yet I’ve had a crush on him for years now. Who wouldn’t? Brent is tall, dark, filthy rich, and built like a Greek God, so of course, he has tons of women after him. He’s one of Denver’s most eligible bachelors, and the designer face lift crowd has him in their sights. Besides, it’s not like he would go for a chubby twenty-five-year old insurance agency receptionist, anyway.

After all, I’m just his daughter’s childhood best friend. He probably thinks of me like his second daughter or something similarly demoralizing. I’m sure Brent doesn’t even see me when I walk in the room, and it would traumatize him on every level if I hit on him.

Harlow sees my melancholic expression and says, “Sweetie, cheer up. I’m sure you’ll find someone soon.”