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She laughs.“Definitely not.”
“How long will Nicholas be gone?”
“Almost two weeks,” she breathes out as though it’s the longest two weeks of her life.“But he has a great time.His grandparents on his dad’s side visit.They spoil him rotten.”
“Which it sounds like he deserves.”
She gives a nod.“Every bit of it.”She frowns at the stack of plates I carry into her kitchen.“You really don’t need to help me with this.”
“My mom would yell at me if I didn’t.”
“I promise I won’t tell.”The conspiratorial gaze she sends me makes her eyes flash in a way that looks anything but mom-like.
This woman is sexy, and she doesn’t even know it.
“You wouldn’t have to tell her.She’dknow,” I inform her.“Come on.You’re a mother yourself.Don’t you have that crazy mom-radar that mine does?”I open her dishwasher and start loading the plates.
“I guess I do,” she agrees.“Like right now, my mom-radar is telling me that Nicholas is standing in front of the bathroom mirror with the water still running, holding his toothbrush and staring at his reflection as he imagines himself breaking up some terrorist plot with his computer for the FBI.”
“More like the NSA,” I correct.“He sounds like me when I was a kid.I’d go on the playground at recess and pretend it was an obstacle course at BUD/S.”
“You always wanted to be a SEAL?”
“Yeah.It was a bit of a blow when I couldn’t do it anymore.”I can tell she wants to ask for details, but she holds back—which makes me not mind sharing the story I usually like to forget.“I took a few hits on a mission.In my right arm.I figured, no big deal, right?But there was a lot of nerve damage.I can do pretty much anything now that I used to, thanks to physical therapy.But tearing down a weapon, firing it—I’m not as quick as I’d need to be in the SEALs.”
“I’m so sorry.”
I hold up my hands.“No big deal.I’ve seen too many people injured a lot worse to let this get to me.And I got to live my dream for a while.Not everyone gets to say that.”
Her eyes seem distant for a moment.I want to ask if she’s livingherdream, for some reason.Standing here with her in this cozy kitchen in front of a window adorned with a twinkling garland and snowflake decals, it just feels imperative to me.
Something about the setting, or the present company, or the little kid upstairs who seems to have survived way too much for his age—all of that combines into thisneedto know that there’s enough happiness in this house to make up for all of life’s challenges.
“Mom, I’m ready!Are you coming up?”Her son’s voice calling down the stairs snaps me out of it.
She laughs.“I’m sorry.I’m being summoned.I still read to him before he goes to bed.He says his friends would tease him if they found out.But still, he can’t seem to let go of the routine.Right now, we’re working our way through the Harry Potter series.”
“I think it’s great.I should get back anyway.”
“I’ll be right up, honey,” she calls, walking me to her front door.“Are you sure you don’t want the leftover cake?I’m just going to send it up north with him and his dad tomorrow if you don’t take it home.There’s no way I’d trust myself alone with it.”
I chuckle.“No, send it away with him.And thanks for dinner.You have no idea how good that tasted to a guy like me.”Especially at this time of year, I want to add but don’t.Something about a home-cooked meal at a time when everyone else gets to gather with their families just means more to me right now than it usually would.
At her door, I turn toward her one last time.“And if you ever need anything, just call,” I add.Then I realize she doesn’t have my number.Strange that I’ve lived next door to her for eighteen months and hadn’t thought to even give her my number in all this time.“Can I put it in your phone for you?”
“Um, yeah, sure.”She seems adorably awkward as she says it, as though it’s been a while since a man gave her his number.
I like that, even if the only reason I’m giving her my number is to be neighborly.
Or is it?
