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Mrs. Jenkins’ eyes bug out when she takes in my boss’s towering form.
She waggles her brows at me, and I flush at her insinuation.
“Thank you again for watching Jake.”
“Anytime, dear. Sorry about your fridge. If you need to use mine for the time being, it’s pretty empty. I mostly eat oatmeal these days.”
“You’re the best. I’ll probably take you up on that offer.”
“You have a spare key, just come in. See you all later.”
She leaves with a wave, and I go into the kitchen to get plates and silverware.
When I come back, Jake and Bash are deep in discussion.
“If you’re a Boggart, can you shadow walk—you know, turn into smoke and scare people?”
“Jacob!” I reprimand, crossing to the dining table.
“It’s okay. He’s doing a school project about Boggarts—who better to ask? And yes, Jake, I can turn to smoke, but I don’t give people nightmares. Leaves a bad taste in my mouth.”
“Because you’re such a nice guy, right, Mom?”
“Really nice.”
Too nice for me.
Bash dishes out fried rice onto all of our plates while I spoon on extra vegetables for Jake.
He glares until he sees Bash is eating just as many, and then he grins.
The kid’s only seen my boss twice and already has him on a pedestal.
Jake stares at Bash with such adoration that my stomach balls up again.
If everything between Bash and I goes south, it’s not just my heart on the line.
It’s my son’s, too.
CHAPTER TWELVE
BASH
Dinner is a hodge-podge feast of Chinese takeout cartons crowded on Wyn’s table.
The surface has more scratches and dents marks than a car in a hailstorm.
My parents never would’ve allowed such an atrocity to grace their home, but I adore it.
Wyn’s table tells the story of her and Jake’s life, and I can imagine the two of them sitting here.
Eating.
Working.
Being the perfect little family.
I sigh, tamping back my loneliness, and watch Jake animatedly reenact something that happened at school.
