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“Where are the plates? I’ll set the table,” I chirped, hoping to disguise the sudden burst of jealousy I had at a woman showing up on his doorstep.
After he put the dish in the freezer, Kane reached past me and opened up the cabinet next to my head. A tremor of awareness spread through me at his nearness as I came face-to-face with his bicep. He grabbed four plates and handed them to me. In the exchange, his fingertips grazed mine, sending a jolt of tingles up my arm.
My heart fluttered in my chest as I nodded. “Thanks.”
I walked into the dining room on noodle legs and wondered how I was going to make it through the next few months without making a fool of myself. I still hadn’t come up with an answer when Mr. Kingston came around the corner.
“How was your nap?” I did my best to look totally unaffected by his grandson’s hotness as I set the plates down.
“I wasn’t sleeping, just restin’ my eyes.”
“Oh, right.” I couldn’t help but grin. I’d never spent much time around Mr. Kingston, but Miss Dottie had mentioned what a stubborn man he was. It made me wonder if Kane was going to be just like him when he got older. He wasn’t that far off now.
Mr. Kingston tried to pull the chair out so he could sit down, but it didn’t budge. I hurried to his side and slid the chair back.
“Damn thing gets stuck,” he muttered as he sat down.
“Can I get you something to drink?” I asked.
“Thank you, young lady; I’ll take a beer.”
“Um, can you drink with the medication you’re on?” When I picked up the prescription bottles and pretended to read them, I noticed there was a picture of a martini glass with a line through it and the words, When taking this medication, do not drink alcoholic beverages, in bold.
“One beer won’t kill me.”
“You don’t know that,” Kane retorted as he entered the room, holding a can of soda. He set it down in front of his grandad, who muttered something under his breath. I didn’t catch everything he said, but I made out the phrases ‘when you were still in diapers,’ and ‘tan your hide.’
I glanced over at Kane, who closed his eyes as he exhaled slowly, and the buzzer to the oven went off.
“Daddy! Bread’s ready!” Harper shouted, bounding into the room.
Kane opened his eyes and went back into the kitchen. He brought out a pot of spaghetti, a bowl of salad, and two loaves of garlic bread, and we all sat down to eat. I’d never really experienced ‘family dinner.’ Remi usually had football, baseball, or basketball practice in the evenings, or he was working. I either ate with Miss Dottie or just had a TV dinner at home.
But this…everyone eating and talking was…nice. Not that Mr. Kingston, Kane, or I had gotten a word in edgewise. As we all ate, Harper told us all about the sleepover she’d just been to and how excited she was to go to her summer day camp.
I was just about to ask when the day camp started when the doorbell rang. Again.
“Do you want me to—” I started to stand up, but Kane was on his feet before I’d even gotten the question out.
“It’s probably one of Daddy’s friends. They like to bring us dinners,” Harper explained.
I glanced over at Mr. Kingston to see if he had any reaction to what his granddaughter had said, but he was just chowing down on his food.
The door opened, and I heard a woman’s voice. Not able to help myself, I leaned to my left and looked around the corner. Stella Barnes was standing on the porch wearing a sundress and holding a bowl covered in tinfoil.
“Does your dad have a lot of friends that bring you dinners?” I asked Harper.
Her eyes widened. “Sooo many.”
Just like he had with Liza, Kane thanked Stella and shut the door. From where I was sitting in the dining room, I could only see his profile. He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. That was the second time I’d seen him do that tonight. He looked like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders.
In that moment, I realized something.
Kane was a single dad with a young daughter. He was the sole caregiver for his grandfather. He worked a high-stress, high-stakes job. And he had women showing up on his doorstep constantly. For some men, women showing up would be the dream. But I could see in his eyes, his expression, and his body language that Kane didn’t feel that way.
It made me wonder who Kane had to share his burdens with. Or if he handled them all alone. I’d been so wrapped up in what I perceived he was feeling about me being here—pity or obligation—that I hadn’t considered that Kane might actually need help.
I promised myself, then and there, that I would do everything I could to make Kane’s life easier while I was here, even if that meant suffering in silence from my unrequited feelings.
