There’s a long pause before Will says, “It’s like a long timeout.”
“How long?”
“Pretty long.”
“Daddy puts me in timeout for hitting. Did you hit someone?”
“Of course not,” Will says, and I think I believe it. He’s never beenviolent. Other than the shove that I don’t hold against him.
“Daddy says hitting isn’t nice.”
“Your daddy’s right.”
“He’s always right,” Ollie says with a sigh, and I turn back to the fridge with a smile.
The leftover pasta definitely isn’t safe. I close the tupperware and put it back to deal with later. I open the freezer, and nothing immediately sticks out other than Ollie’s waffles, but if I let him have them for dinner once, he’ll want them every night.
This is a disaster.
Why did I think I could have company?
The house is a mess, and we don’t have any food and—
I hear Will laugh.
It’s different than the laugh from earlier. He’s not stopping it before it can happen. He’s genuinely laughing at something Ollie said, and it’s a strange sound to hear.
I don’t know if I’ve ever heard him laugh.
It’s a nice sound.
I’m still staring into the freezer when Will comes into the kitchen.
When I look over, he’s leaning in the doorway, and the smile on his face dies when our eyes meet, fading into something neutral, bordering on angry when he sees me.
I look back at the freezer, ignoring the feeling it leaves behind.
“I’ve been meaning to go to the grocery,” I tell him when he comes to stand next to me, an inch too close, to peer into the freezer. He finds a couple of frozen pizzas from the back that I overlooked. “Just throw some pizzas in. I don’t need anything fancy.”
With that, he moves back to the counter, leaning against it with his arms crossed, looking around at my messy kitchen. “I’ve been eating vending machine food for the last week.”
I turn toward him, opening my mouth to say something, to apologize for not inviting him over, but the way he’s looking at me says he doesn’t want me to make it a big deal, so I don’t. “We should go shopping,” I say instead. What I should have done a week ago.
He unfolds his arms, pushing off the counter. “I’ve had much worse, trust me. I’m good.”
That may be, but something I don’t like has taken residence in my chest, so I don’t give in. “Friday,” I say. “We’ll go to the grocery on Friday after my shift.” He opens his mouth to rejectmy idea, but I turn toward the freezer to get the pizza. “It’s not up for debate.”
Once the pizza’s ready, everyone crowds around the table, eating our pizza and going back for seconds. Addie’s claimed the seat next to Will and hasn’t slowed down with her questions.
But he’s answering all of them, no matter how ridiculous. And when she starts telling him about her art, I can tell he’s genuinely interested.
“Can I see some of your drawings?” he asks, nodding at the sketchbook she brought to the table, even though we have a no art during dinner rule.
She slides it across to him without hesitation, something I’m not sure she’d do forme, and he flips through, making comments here and there that make her smile.
“Those are tattoo designs,” she says when he gets toward the back.
“Hm. I’ve been thinking about getting a tattoo. Maybe I’ll let you design it.”
