“It’s what you didn’t say. I was expectin’ a non-traditionalist to say she’d never get married. So, I guess you’re not against marriage. You’re against taking your husband’s name. I’ll just file that away for later.” He steps back from the wall and drops me on the bed.
“For the record, I’m not against marriage. Far from it. My dad’s married. Tara and Ethan will probably get married. I hope Alan does, but as for me—”
He puts a finger to my lips. “Stop pressurin’ me.”
“Let me save you some time. The answer is no.”
“I’ll ask when I’m ready.” He winks. I reach for his hair again, but he anticipates my move and moves to the side, all the while laughing at me. His phone rings, and he says, “Behave, or I’ll fight back.” His smile widens when he looks at his phone. “Mama,” he says. “I was just talkin’ about you. Hold on. I have another call.” He checks his phone and types something. A few seconds later, there’s a knock on the door. “That’s for you, Queen. Get the door.”
“Mama’s boy,” I whisper.
I jump off the bed and roll my eyes at him before I walk out and give him some privacy. When I open the front door, the doorman has a trolley with several bouquets of roses, all different colors. He rolls it in and sets out six bouquets on the dining room table and leaves.
I pluck out the card.
Queen Vee,
The only man who will get you roses is me, and my queen deserves all the roses her champion can provide.
I press the card to my lips, close my eyes, and will myself not to fall heads over heels for this man, but I’m afraid it might already be too late.
When I get to the kitchen, Evan has the fridge open and his head stuck in it.
“Still hungry?” I ask him. He looks at me and nods. I grab a paper towel, dampen it and wipe dry jelly from around his mouth. “How about I warm you up some of the leftovers in the fridge? Or I can make you a grilled ham and cheese. Those were my favorites growing up.”
His eyes widen, and he says, “You’d make that for me? Did Alan like them too?”
“I will make it for you, and Alan still loves them.”
He nods and jumps on one of the stools at the counter. I look around until I find a skillet and everything I need from the fridge.
“You don’t have to.” He looks down, and my heart breaks a little. “It’s okay if you only like my dad. The last person didn’t like me.”
If Colt was here, I’d pinch him again. I walk to the kitchen island and sit next to him. I put a hand on his shoulder, and when he doesn’t pull away, I inch closer. “I told you I want us to be friends, and I mean it. I like you.” He finally looks up and gives me a shy smile. My heart breaks for this little boy who’s lost so much in his short life. “We’ll watch movies, go out and do things. And tell you what? You tell me something you want to do, and we’ll do it together.” I expect him to shrug and not give me an answer, but I’m surprised by what he says next.
“I want to learn to knit. Can you teach me?” I’m so shocked, I bite my lip to stop myself from laughing.
“I don’t know how, but we can learn together. I’ll find us a class. How does that sound?” He looks up at me in awe and slowly nods his head. I guess I should have asked Colt first, but I don’t think he’ll object.
“Okay. My grandma and Rosalie knit, but when they tried to teach me, I made a mess with the yarn, so they kicked me out, but I was only a baby then. I was four.”
“We’ll learn together. Deal?” I hold up my pinky and he wraps his around mine. I mess his hair and return to the stove.
“You must be excited about your grandma visiting,” I say to him.
“She’s nice, and Daddy says she spoils me.” All shyness is gone from his voice now.
“She’s your grandma. She’s supposed to.” That’s one thing I missed out on growing up. My dad’s mom died when he was a teenager, and he was never close to his father. I’ve only met my maternal grandmother once before she died a few years ago. Mother never talks about her.
“She lets me have soda and sweet tea, and she tells Daddy he has to deal with it. And my Uncle Charlie is nice too, but he got into a big fight with Daddy when we were there for Christmas.” He lowers his voice and says, “Daddy punched him. I saw it. And the police took Uncle Charlie away. Grandma cried and ran to her room. After that, we went to Disney World. Daddy won’t let me talk to Uncle Charlie anymore, but I miss him. He makes good brownies.”
Holy dysfunctional family Christmas. I turn my back on Evan while I gather my thoughts. “Wow. Sounds a little wild, kiddo,” I tell him. Tara did say Colt has a brother he doesn’t get along with. I wonder what happened at Christmas, but I’m not about to pump a five-year-old for info on his family drama.
“Uncle Charlie would play baseball with me. He was teaching me to pitch. I want to play baseball when I’m big, not basketball.” His little shoulders slump at the mention of his uncle. I flip his grilled cheese over and think of a way to change the subject.
I grab the last cookie left in the cookie jar and give it to him. “How about we make some chocolate chip cookies together. They will taste better than those, but don’t tell Myra I said that.” He shoves the last bit of cookie in his mouth. I plate the sandwich, cut it diagonally, and put it in front of him. I wash some grapes, slice strawberries, and put them in a bowl for him.
“What if Daddy says no to the cookies?”
