AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Three
Clementine
Tiny humans havestrange effects on people. From what I’ve experienced, they either morph into baby-talking personal space invaders or stay-away-from-me kidphobes. By the way he’s staring at the barely over three-foot tall child in front of me, Gabriel falls into the latter category. He looks like he just lost his fortune.
I’ll admit, I’m feeling a little smug. “I’m guessing that proposal doesn’t seem like such a good idea now?”
His dark eyes finally pull away from the little boy checking him out to mine. “Is he yours?”
“Yes.”
“How old is he?”
“Four, and his name is Tennyson.”
“Hi,” Tennyson says, holding up four fingers.
“That’s a big name for such a little guy,” Gabriel tells him.
“What’s your name?” Tennyson asks.
“Gabriel.”
“Want some pizza?” Tennyson asks, trusting like only a child can. “Mommy got half-cheese, half-pepperoni.”
That familiar protective instinct I get when Tennyson darts into a crowd, or does something equally heart attack inducing, emerges likes claws ready to draw blood. This seems like a very teachable moment about the dangers of talking to strangers. If there’s any reason to shove Gabriel out the door, it’s Tennyson.
I’ve been very careful, and now, Gabriel’s grandfather is threatening to blow down my house of cards like the big bad wolf he was before he left this earth to terrorize people on the other side.
“No, thanks,” Gabriel turns down the offer, with a semi-grin.
“Come on, let’s get your dinner,” I tell Tennyson before excusing myself.
That’s all the incentive Tennyson requires to dart away with a ‘bye’ to the man watching us with questions swirling across his face. If only I could toss a few slices at Gabriel and make him run away. Blaze is great pizza but it’s not magic pizza. The hallway closes in on me as I hasten my steps to the kitchen.
Tennyson takes a seat at the oak pedestal table, while I open the Blaze pizza box and then plate him two cheese slices.
Once he has everything he needs, I reluctantly tell him, “I’ll be right back.”
“Is Gabriel your friend?” he asks.
“Yes,” I reply, trampling the lie under my feet as I move across the tiled floor.
Rather than face the problem in my living room, I make a quick stop into the small bathroom in the hallway, in hopes of composing myself. Inside, I sag against the door. The reflection staring back at me from the mirror above the sink looks anything but composed. My makeup-free face is entering ghost territory.
I’m a hot mess, but this could work to my advantage, because Gabriel needs to see what he’s getting. I’m not a socialite who walks around in expensive clothes and heels all day. The faded hoodie and shorts I’m wearing are my mom couture, and the only parties I host are tea parties with miniature plastic cups and a singing teapot. Not at all what will be expected of me, I’m sure.
I take a deep breath and tighten the haphazard bun piled on top of my head before leaving my temporary sanctuary.
When I return, Gabriel lords over my living room, eyeing the framed photos on the bookshelf. I hate to say it, but the back of him is just as impressive as the front. He looks so out of place here in his trim black slacks and pale-blue fitted shirt that were probably tailored to fit his body. An aura of wealth surrounds him, and my average furnishings only amplify the difference in our social status—my polyester to his cashmere.
“So, what did you want?” I ask, moving into the room.
He picks up a lavender scented candle, giving it a sniff, before setting the glass jar back on the shelf. “Where is his father?”
“Gone.”
Smooth and collected he turns to face me. I can’t believe this is actually happening. The attorney’s letter I received two days before Joseph’s death, forewarning me of what was to come, should be proof enough, that yes, this is really happening.
