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Ms. Stuart looks increasingly awkward, and I feel like I need to say something.
“He was a great guy. I just couldn’t go through with it, and I was standing at the airport you know. And I saw the board flash with a flight to Seattle, and next thing I know I’m on my way here.”
“You always come here.” Gin grins at me.
“Always?” Ms. Stuart blurts the question, and I can tell she immediately regrets it from the way her cheeks pink. Apparently it’s contagious.
“Uh. Yeah. It’s not exactly my first getaway job.”
“It’s like that movie. We have to watch that sometime.” Gin nudges Amelia.
“I think that’s a little mature for you,” Gabe pipes in.
“Oh, I um… I’m sorry,” Ms. Stuart says, looking like she’s the one who wants to melt into the floor.
“It’s okay. I just get myself into situations every now and then. Luckily, I’ve got Gabe and Gin to let me hide out for a bit.”
“Her boyfriend won’t stop calling her. He wants her to come back,” Gin offers up.
“Virginia!” Gabe’s voice takes on a harsher tone, and she shrinks from it.
“Maybe we should get going,” Ms. Stuart offers, glancing at the crockpot again. “I can take that back if you don’t want it.”
“Oh, um... Well, we did start dinner already,” Gabe answers, and I can see Ms. Stuart’s heart sinking in real-time. I feel guilty as all hell for it.
“Trust me. You want whatever is in that crockpot over what I’m making.” I gently elbow Gabe in the side. “It smells amazing, and I’m sure Ms. Stuart is a phenomenal cook.”
“She is. She always makes us the best stuff. Doesn’t she Dad?” Gin grins.
“She does,” he agrees. “But you better get going. If you want to get some fun in and still get enough sleep for your game tomorrow.”
“I know, Dad.” Gin rolls her eyes.
“Let’s go!” Amelia takes Gin’s hand, and they hurry toward the door.
“Bye, Dad! Bye, Aunt Aurora!”
“Bye, girls,” we answer them in unison.
“Thank you.” Gabe nods to the crockpot and then to Ms. Stuart. She nods in return and then hurries toward the door herself. Gabe follows them down the hall and walks them all out.
When he finally returns to the kitchen I’m grinning like mad. I take a sip of my margarita while he shifts on his feet.
“What?” he asks impatiently.
“You have an admirer.” I smirk.
“She just brings dinner sometimes. She thinks I’m a pathetic bachelor who can’t cook for myself.”
“Which you are.” Gabe didn’t cook much beyond pancakes and grilled cheese.
“I run a bar. I can get all the food I want there.”
“But not a home cooked meal. In a crockpot. With all the extra care and attention,” I tease him. “There isn’t a Mr. Stuart is there?”
“No. They’re divorced.”
“Ahh. I see.”
