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“Step one is asking you about mattress preferences.” We looped around to another hall and passed a few doors before stopping at the one with "Ms. Walton" in big, colorful letters.

“I only said that as a joke,” she huffed, rolling her eyes as she unlocked the door and let me in. The room was decorated in pastel rainbow, muted sort of colors like in her house. Paper chains hung from the various boards, posters with the alphabet and matching items covered the wall, and on the window were several gel clings arranged like stain glass. But the thing that made my throat stick was the back wall, a gallery of children’s art and projects, a hodgepodge of things that these kids were proud of. In the next few years, we’d have a wall like that at home. “It wouldn’t be fair to make you buy a bed you’re not sleeping in regularly.”

“That is something I’m working toward though,” I said, not really thinking it through as I stared at the kids' pictures. My favorite was a crayon drawing of the beach, they’d used different shades of blue that added a nice depth to it.

“You wanna live together? In my house?” she asked, voice a kind of quiet that made me realize I’d gone too far, too close to a relationship thing before she was ready.

“Sorry, sorry.” I moved over to her, setting the food aside so I could take her hand. “I was just thinking in terms of practicality with the baby. Like waking up to feed them or change their diaper, the easiest way for me to do a fair share of that would be while at your place.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. It’d be a lot of strain on you to go back to your place or sleep on the couch.”

“And moving the baby back and forth from our places might not be great for them either.”

Leah nodded, teeth sunk deep into her lower lip. She closed her eyes and took a long, slow breath. And then another. By the fifth deep breath, I started to worry.

“Leah? You doing all right? I’m really sorry I went over a bound—”

“I’m good. I’m just … breathing into the uncomfortable feeling to let my body know it’s safe and the freak out isn’t necessary.”

“Oh. Put your tongue on the roof of your mouth while you’re inhaling.” She nodded and took another few breaths like that before opening her eyes again, squeezing my hands and bopping them up and down.

“Yeah, you staying over makes sense. And if your payment for making me feel awkward just now is a fancy new mattress, then I can accept that exchange.”

“Anything you’d like. Spring, memory foam, the ones that adjust, whatever.”

“Honestly, I don’t know what I like. The mattress I have is just one I found on sale. I liked yours though, we should try out more of whatever that one is.” She sighed, shimmying off the stress from her shoulders before letting go of my hand and moving to her desk. “So mild freak-out done. Welcome to my classroom. I decorated it myself and paid for the decoration, because, you know, public school.”

“It’s great. Though I’m a little surprised you don’t have a Christmas tree up.” I looked around, just in case I missed one, before joining her, sitting on her desk as I pulled out the food.

“Public school,” she repeated and I nodded. “Plus, I don’t want any of my kids to feel left out if they don’t celebrate Christmas or be reminded of any stressors from home. If I could do a day exploring all the different December holidays, that’d be cool. But again, public school. Public school in Florida. So that’s not an option.”

“You’ve put a lot of thought into it. I’m sure the kids appreciate it.” I set the Styrofoam container with her food in front of her and she raised an eyebrow in a "what the hell are you talking about" look. “Okay, well maybe not the kids. But surely the parents appreciate it.” The look intensified.

“That is a subject I don’t wanna get into on my lunch break.”

“Duly noted. I’ll do my best to make up for their lack of appreciation.”

“Well, bringing me warm food is definitely a step in that direction.” She lifted the box, weighing it in her hands before shifting it side to side.

“What’re you doing?”

“Trying to guess what you ordered me. I was surprised you didn’t ask what I wanted when we were planning you coming by.”

“I should have,” I admitted. “But I went with something that fit your recent cravings and isn’t too messy.”

Leah hummed, setting the container down and stared at it with narrowed eyes for a beat longer. “Quesadilla?”

I reached over and opened the container to reveal exactly that. “With a spinach tortilla and chicken. I know you’re craving salty and cheesy, but I wanted to make sure you’re getting all the nutrients you need too.”

Leah immediately took a bite, eyes rolling back in her head as she moaned with a full mouth. “I feel like you snuck vegetables into my food, but I’m not mad about it. This is delicious.”

“Glad you like it.”

“What’d you get for yourself?” she asked, leaning over to look in the bag.

“I already ate. Didn’t want to mess up my diet with the championship around the corner. That’s your dessert, a Nutella brownie from a bakery near my place.”

“You made two stops? You must really like me, huh?”