FROGGY THE WINGMAN

“Jesus. What the…” I said, almost dropping my phone into the book return as I noticed the man walking by.

“What? What’s wrong?” my best friend Camilla asked through the speaker.

“Remember that guy David? He was disgustingly hot and said all the right things and then we went on the date and it was a disaster.”

“Yes, I do. That was a two-pint night because you were so disappointed.”

“In Ben & Jerry’s we trust. Okay, well he just walked into the library and he’s wearing some kind of sock puppet.”

“Follow him,” Camilla said.

“Hang on,” I said, putting the phone between my ear and my shoulder. I shoved my library books in the return slot. “How do I do this? I’m not as crazy as you.” Camilla laughed in my ear.

“It’s not rocket science. Act natural, go in there and sit down at a computer. Search for a book you actually want to read and then look around while you’re at it.”

“Fine, okay,” I said. I strolled into the library, keeping an eye out and went and did as she said. I was finishing up writing down the location of a fantasy novel I’d been looking forward to reading when I felt a large presence behind me.

“Rose?”

I froze, realizing David had found me first.

“Hey, you,” I said, turning to face him and doing my best to look surprised.

He still had the green sock puppet with the googly eyes on his hand. I gave it a glance and his gorgeous tan face flushed a deep red. He shoved it behind his back.

“I uh volunteer here,” he offered, before scratching at his neck. “It’s not like I’m uh into puppets or anything, I swear.”

“Right,” I said, trailing off the rest of the word.

“Look, um, I’ve been meaning to text you. I think we got off on the wrong foot on our date,” he said.

“You mean when you grilled me about whether or not I wanted kids three minutes in?”

He gave a weird self-deprecating laugh.

“About that…”

“Daddy, daddy,” a little blonde boy came running up to him. An elderly woman who had the same brown eyes as David trailed him.

“Froggy, Froggy, Froggy,” the adorable toddler demanded as David picked him up and situated him. David put the hand still covered in the sock puppet up and started making silly croaking noises. The kid squealed in delight. My heart, and my ovaries, did little backflips.

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” David said over his kid’s head. “But I haven’t dated anyone since my wife d-i-e-d.” He spelled out the last word, no doubt trying not to trigger his son.

“Oh.”

“Give the man another chance!” Camilla screeched through the speaker. I startled. I had forgotten she was still there.

“Call you back,” I said, hanging up, and looking at David sheepishly. He was grinning.

“So? How about it?”

“Yeah,” I said, smiling back at him. “Definitely.”