I'd thought a lot about how it felt to paint but not what an observer might experience looking at one of my paintings. It was an interesting concept. Could my paintings bring people joy? An appreciation for the arts or even nature?
He'd cooked the veggies and the meat, combining them with fresh salsa into one pot. Then he turned off the burner. "We can eat this in a burrito."
I grabbed the tortilla wraps from the pantry and watched while he wrapped the burritos, then cooked them on the stove.
At my questioning look, he said, "They taste better this way."
I shrugged. "If you say so. I don't cook much since I'd only be doing it for me."
"I saved meat and veggies for Lilliana, if you want to serve her while the burritos toast."
"Of course," I said, taking the small bowls of chopped food over to the high chair. I removed the tea set so it wouldn't get dirty and put several pieces of meat and veggies in front of her. She used her fingers to pop one tiny, cooked carrot into her mouth.
"She loves carrots," Dalton said.
"She's a good eater." I never had to coax her to eat a snack. I'd come to enjoy watching her eat. It was messy at times, but that was part of the process. Lilliana was growing and developing, experiencing different textures and sensations on her hands and in her mouth. This was an important time for her.
"She's always been a good eater. Have you had kids that weren't?"
"Oh, yeah. Some only eat mac and cheese and chicken nuggets. I'd be lucky if I could get them to eat those apple sauce packets. Others love fruit but won't eat vegetables. But Lilliana eats everything I've given her."
"She's an adventurous eater like me," Dalton said proudly.
It felt like he was finally getting a chance to be a father, and he was enjoying it. As he should. I didn't like Oakley for keeping Lilliana from him or playing games with him. It didn't feel like a good situation. We hadn't seen her since that first night, and I was enjoying getting to know Lilliana without her interference.
I grabbed the strawberries I'd cut up after her nap and added them to her spread, and she squealed. "She loves strawberries."
"Who doesn't?" Dalton said as he brought two plates to the table, setting one down in front of me.
"You want anything to drink?"
"I have water," I said nodding toward my bottle that was always nearby.
He picked it up, testing the weight, and then took it to the fridge to refill it.
"You don't have to do that," I said when he returned.
"I don't mind," he said simply.
Lilliana lifted her hands as if she wanted to be picked up, and Dalton released her from her chair and sat her in his lap.
I stood ready to clean off her tray, pushing the bowls of food toward Dalton so he could feed her. It was hard to eat when you had a child in your lap, but Dalton seemed to enjoy it. When I finished cleaning the tray, I sat to eat my dinner but couldn't look away from the sweet picture they made.
Lilliana was balanced on one of his thighs, her hands touching his beard, his food, everything. But he didn't get annoyed with her. He murmured to her in a low tone. "You want my burrito?"
"Burt," Lilliana said sweetly.
"I can cut a bit up into tiny pieces for her. That way she can eat the same food as us." I'd read somewhere that was a good way for kids to enjoy the foods we did. Just serve them the same thing in smaller portions.
"You don't have to do that."
"You have your hands full," I said as I went to the counter with my plate, cutting a third of the burrito off and into tiny pieces. I placed it on a small plate and set it in front of them.
Lilliana immediately took a piece and lifted it to her mouth, then at the last second, handed it to her father.
My heart skipped a beat when he ate it from her fingers. "You two are so sweet together."
Our eyes met, and for a second, I couldn't look away. Then the doorbell rang. I stood, wanting to break out of whatever spell he'd put on me. "I'll get it."
