"I mean if he's sick or you're sick, or you just don't feel like cooking."
Amos goes silent. I finish putting my veggies away and close the fridge.
"Are you still there?"
"I don't do a lot of cooking; I was just going to throw steak on the grill every night."
"Okay."
"What if he doesn't like steak?"
I check the wall clock, and it's another two hours before I have to pick up Kyra. She's at a playdate with one of her friends from school, and all I've got to do is finish putting the groceries away and clean the house. But that can wait.
"Do you want me to come over and help put a meal plan together? I could help you with the first grocery shopping trip."
He lets out a long breath, and I can hear the relief in his voice. "Please, please come and help me."
It's not unusual to visit a client on a Saturday. Sometimes my work spans all hours, but it is unusual to feel the butterflies in my stomach as I take the elevator up to Amos's apartment.
He greets me at the door with an anxious expression on his face. "Can I keep beer in the fridge?"
I laugh until I realize he's not joking.
"Yes, you can have beer in the house, Amos. Just don't give any to Sam."
He huffs out a long breath of relief and pushes open the door to his apartment. As I enter his apartment, my arm brushes against his and a shock of heat spikes up my arm.
I glance up at him, wondering if he felt it too. The hunger in his eyes makes my knees wobble.
I remind myself I'm here to help him get ready for Sam and there are a hundred reasons why we're not exploring this connection, even as my body tingles all over just from one touch of his arm.
Amos strides into the kitchen and plants his hands on the counter.
"It's the food that's worrying me. I went from my mother's home to the military. There's always been someone to cook for me."
He runs a hand through his hair. "When I'm back, I either eat at Mom's, get takeout, or grill steak. I don't know how to cook for myself, let alone a kid."
His concern is genuine, and my heart squeezes for him. He wants to do his best for Sam, and I love that.
"You don't have to do it all yourself, Amos," I say gently. "Could your mom make some meals up to help you through the first few weeks? Remember, your support network is there for you."
He looks at me like I've just solved world hunger. "That's a great idea. Mom would love to help."
The relief on his face makes me smile, and he smiles back which lights up his eyes, making them twinkle. I have to look away before I get lost in them.
Amos grabs his phone and fires off a text to his mom while I open his cupboards to check what he has already and what he might need.
"How is your mom?"
"She's doing okay. They're still working out which treatment she responds best to. It's been a lot, losing Jake and now finding Sam. That doesn't help."
"I'm sorry she's going through all that."
"She's cut back on volunteer work at the church so she can get some rest." He frowns. "I can't rely on her too much to provide all the food. And I want to learn to cook if that's what it takes."
There's a notepad sitting on the kitchen counter, and I grab it and turn to a fresh page.
"Let's start with a meal plan."
