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I opened my mouth to tell Persephone that I wanted her, badly, that she was the only woman I wanted and I wanted her forever. But she walked away, hips swaying with the kind of attitude that a woman like her should always have, before I could formulate my thoughts.
Just outside the office door, Clyde waited until Persephone was gone before he let out a long, low whistle. “You are not the man I thought you were Ryan, if you let her walk away. She’s fine as hell and she’s a doctor. You could definitely do worse, but probably not much better than that.”
The wisdom of a seventeen year old. I let out a laugh and shook my head as I left my office and looked at his smirking face. “Thanks for that, Clyde.”
“Anytime, man. Anytime.” He pushed off the wall and shook his head. “That’s a quality woman right there.”
He wasn’t wrong, and for the rest of the day Persephone’s words bounced around in my head.
Let me know when you want me the way I want you.
Words I’d been waiting a long time to hear.
Persy
“I want the bacon mac & cheese please.” Titus didn’t even bother looking at the menu placed in front of him. He simply climbed into the chair that sat between me and Ferguson before he declared what his order would be.
Ferguson frowned and leaned forward. “What about vegetables? You know they help you get big and strong, don’t you?”
Titus bristled at Ferguson’s attempt at friendliness. “It has broccoli in it,” he practically growled.
Ferguson’s brows dipped in either confusion or hurt, I couldn’t be sure as he sat back and hid behind the oversized menu.
“Titus, I raised you with better manners than that.”
His shoulders slumped forward and he let out a heavy sigh. “I know. Sorry, Mom.”
I shook my head. “Don’t say sorry to me, you owe Ferguson an apology.”
“I’m sorry Mr. Ferguson.”
“It’s all right. Meeting new people is hard.” I had to give Ferguson credit, not much, but it was difficult to deal with Titus when he was being surly.
“What’s it like in Canada?”
Ferguson blinked at the abrupt topic change. “It’s nice most of the year but in winter, it gets really cold. The only good thing about the cold is hockey season. And skiing.”
“Do you have other kids?”
It felt like the entire restaurant froze at that question, but I knew it was just my imagination. Ferguson choked on his answer and shook his head. “No. I mean yes. Yes, I do have children with my wife.” His gaze slid to mine, wary since he’d just told me his intentions in a place where I couldn’t react.
“Did you bring them?”
“Ah, sorry, I didn’t. No.”
I wasn’t a religious person, but I briefly closed my eyes and sent a prayer to the heavens in gratitude for the waitress who’d chosen that moment to come take our orders. She’d saved Titus from a follow up question that Ferguson, no doubt, could not answer satisfactorily.
“We should get an order of bacon mac for Ryan. He loves it as much as I do.” I could have sworn I saw mischief lighting up my son’s eyes, almost as if he knew this dinner with his father was a one-off, never to be repeated.
“What do you like to do for fun, Titus?”
“All kinds of stuff. Hang out with Rosie, she’s my best friend even though she’s a girl. Her dad is a chef, and we like to go really high on the swings. Do you like to play with ropes?” Even if he didn’t want to know the answer, Titus looked up at his father with hope burning in his eyes, begging him to have one shared hobby or experience.
“Can’t say I play with ropes all that often. Well, we do have a boat and in the summer months I try my hand at steering. But I’m not very good at it either.”
Titus giggled. “Me either. Ryan says I’m too young even to drive one of his old clunkers.”
It was Ferguson’s turn to laugh. “Can you see over the steering wheel?”
“Not yet, but soon. That’s why I eat my broccoli.”
Thankfully the food arrived quickly since we beat the dinner rush by an hour out of deference to Titus, who was already acting like a tired little kid. We ate quickly with very little conversation and I had a feeling Ferguson was happy to get away from the little boy who had inherited my bad attitude. “How was the meal?”
“Good,” Titus said with a wide cheesy grin.
“Excellent!” Ferguson wiped his mouth, slowly and politely, but the signs of wanting to get the hell out of dodge were evident in the way he sat on the edge of his seat, the way he covertly tried to get our waitress’ attention.
“It’s all right, Ferguson. No one has room for dessert, do they?”
