I point immediately. “Rule number one. Marbles does not eat at the table.”
Josh groans dramatically but obeys, settling Marbles onto the little bed in the nook off the kitchen. “Be a good boy,” he whispers.
We all sit, and beneath the small table, Tuck’s knee brushes mine. I inhale sharply. Neither of us moves away.
He gives me a soft smile and inhales. “This smells amazing, Maria.”
“Dig in,” I say, hoping my voice sounds steadier than I feel.
“Mom, this is so good,” Lucas announces around a mouthful of chicken.
I wag my finger. “Do not talk with your mouth full, Lucas.”
Tuck grins at that, watching me like I’m performing some fascinating magic trick.
“What?” I narrow my eyes at him.
He doesn’t speak, just taps his lips and mimics chewing properly.
I laugh despite myself. “Okay. Rule number two. You do not ever just show up here without texting Tuck first. This is his space. We respect that.”
“Got it.” Josh gives a captain’s salute.
“How many times a week do you want them to come?” I ask, trying to keep things practical. Structured.
He leans back slightly. “I know you boys are busy with school and extracurriculars. What works for you?”
Minding his manners Lucas’s fork stalls an inch in front of his mouth. “We’re good Tuesday and weekends.”
“I have school Tuesday,” I remind them. “I need the car.”
Josh frowns, shoulders slumping. “So just weekends?” He glances at Marbles curled in a tiny ball. “Marbles won’t even remember me.”
The ache in his voice squeezes something inside me.
Tuck doesn’t hesitate. “When I don’t have a home or away game on Tuesday, I can pick you up and bring you here.”
Josh’s face lights up like it’s Christmas morning. “Really, Tuck?”
“If it’s okay with your mother.” His eyes shift to mine, as my boys look at him like he hung the moon…and that’s damn dangerous.
“I…we don’t want to put you out.”
He shrugs. “If I’m home, it’s not a problem.”
The boys are so excited. What can I say to that. If I show resistance they’ll be suspicious, so I simply nod, half surprised that Tuck would do that, half not at all. He’s always there for everyone on his team, the glue that holds them together, but getting close to my boys? That’s a line he’s been careful about not crossing. And yet…here he is.
Here we are.
“Okay,” I begin, and we move through the rest of the rules, friends coming over, what happens when Tuck’s on the road, curfews, snacks, quiet hours… They agree to everything as we eat, and thirty minutes later, the plates are clean, and I start to rise.
“Nope,” Tuck says firmly, holding up a hand. “You cooked. The boys and I clean.” He gestures toward the hall with a playful smirk. “Why don’t you go get a start on your homework?”
“Are you sure?” I ask, skeptical.
He turns me gently and nudges me with his shoulder. I laugh. Damn. A girl could get used to this. But I know better. I start down the hall toward the library, the quiet stretching as I move away from the kitchen. Then—ding—the doorbell rings, startling me. I pause, tilting my head toward the sound.
“Maria, can you get that?” Tuck calls from the kitchen.
