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Ginger and Shawn stood on the porch, watching as I pulled up. Shawn reached out for me as I approached them.
“Hey, buddy. And here are the cookies you requested.” I handed her the bag I’d grabbed from my front seat.
“Thanks.” She hesitated before giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. “Dinner’s almost ready.”
“Smells delicious. What are we having?”
“Herb crusted salmon with creamed asparagus and oven roasted baby potatoes.”
As we got closer to the living room, Shawn started fighting to get down. He grabbed my finger, pulling me behind him over to his play area. I sat on the floor with him and drove cars around, then worked on a puzzle, followed by him wanting a book read. All within ten minutes of play.
“Can you put him in his chair, please?”
“Time for dinner, Lil’ Man.” I picked him up and complied with Ginger’s request.
I walked up behind her as she fixed our plates, and rested my hands on her hips. She stopped moving. There was a time when I could do this and she would’ve laughed. She would’ve enjoyed it instead of reacting like she had to brace herself for what was next. We needed to get back to that place.
“What are you doing?”
“Supervising.”
She turned, placed her hands on my chest, and gave a gentle push. “Why do I need supervising?”
“I’m a growing boy, have to make sure you don’t give me the kid portion.”
A playful grin appeared on her face. “Really? With as big as you are, you should be done growing.”
My arms circled her waist. “Nope, pretty sure I have several more inches.”
She visibly swallowed. Color crept into her face, and she dropped her head, breaking the eye contact. Reaching behind her, Ginger took hold of my hands, and removed them from around her waist.
“One kid portion coming right up.” She smiled, but it didn’t seem as genuine as the earlier one. “Pick a wine, please.” She turned back to complete what she was doing before I interrupted her.
Playtime was over. Shawn whined from his high chair, fighting to get out of his restraints. I picked up his little plate and gave it to him before heading over to her bar.
I wasn’t a big wine drinker, but the lady gets what the lady wants. “White or red?”
“White. A Chard
onnay.”
We’d not been eating long when the alarm chimed, singling the door had been opened.
“Great,” Ginger muttered under her breath. She gulped down the remaining wine in her glass before refilling it.
I thought back to our phone conversation this morning, and swallowed back the comment I wanted to make.
“Smells good,” Dorian stated when she entered the kitchen. “Hello, Malcolm.”
“Hey, what’s up?”
Dorian fixed herself a plate. “Thanks for getting me in contact with Brenda.”
“No problem.”
She grabbed a wine glass from the cabinet before taking a seat. I waited for her to speak to Ginger. She didn’t.
“You guys don’t mind if I join you?” The question was apparently rhetorical.
