Page 9 of My Single Dad Biker

Louis immediately gravitates toward a shelf of records in the corner.

"You can look at those if you're careful," Katherine says.

He pulls one out gently and examines the cover. She watches him the same way she probably watches him at school. Not hovering but present.

I'm standing in her entryway trying not to notice how good she looks in her own space.

"Can I make you something?" she asks. "Tea? I have hot chocolate if Louis wants some."

"We're not staying long."

"You're not intruding."

Louis looks up. "Can I have hot chocolate?"

I look at Katherine. She's already moving toward the kitchen. "Of course."

I follow because standing in her entryway alone feels stranger than following her. Her kitchen is small. When she's at the stove and I'm leaning against the counter, there's maybe four feet between us.

She pulls out a pot and milk and cocoa powder. Makes it from scratch instead of using a packet. I watch her hands move through the familiar motions.

"How was Louis after earlier?" she asks. "Was he worried?"

"He wanted to know if you were okay."

She glances at me. "What did you tell him?"

"That you were."

"Thank you for that."

She pours milk into the pot and turns on the burner. Louis comes into the kitchen and climbs onto one of the two chairs at her small table.

"Do you like music?" he asks her.

"I do. I teach it."

"I mean when you're not teaching."

She smiles. "Yes. That's why I have all those records."

"Dad plays music sometimes when he's working on bikes. Old stuff mostly."

"Old music can be good."

"That's what Dad says."

Katherine looks at me and her smile is easy and warm and she's talking to my son in her kitchen at seven o'clock on a Wednesday while making hot chocolate from scratch.

She pours it into a mug and sets it in front of Louis with a warning to let it cool.

Then she leans against the counter across from me and we're standing close in this small kitchen and I'm aware of every inch of space between us.

"Are you sure you don't want anything?" she asks.

"I'm good."

"You look like you're thinking about something."