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“You just want to grab his ass,” the twin says, letting me know it’s Lexi and not Abby.
“That’s just a bonus. I like hugging,” Emma says brightly.
“Oh, she’s a very good…hugger,” Orval adds with a mischievous grin on his face. I’m pretty sure we’re no longer talking about the same thing.
“Yes, I do enjoy our…hugs,” Emma coos with a wink.
“Anyway,” Payton interrupts, doing her best to steer the conversation away from the inappropriate direction it was clearly heading.
“I like hugs!” Bri adds. “Daddy hugs me good, but Payton’s hugs are the best.”
My throat closes as I look across the table at my daughter. She’s casually coloring, not even remotely aware that her simple words caused cardiac arrest on her dear ol’ dad.
“Payton learned to give hugs from the master. Isn’t that right, Dean?” Grandma asks with another wink. Again, I’m pretty sure we’re not talking about the same type of hugs.
“Uh, okay. Although I’m starting to wonder if there is a right or wrong answer to that question.”
“Grandma, leave him alone. We don’t need to discuss my abilities to hug at the dinner table.”
“Oh, Payters. It’s always the right time to talk about hugging! And what better time than at the dinner table with family.” Emma has an ornery glean in her aged eyes.
“No, you should never talk about hugging at the dinner table, nor with family, especially your grandparents,” Lexi says, a horrified look on her face.
“Are we back to that again? Must I explain to you how hugging is a natural part of life? I thought we went over this when you girls were younger.”
“Yes, we did. I’m pretty sure I was the only person who learned about the birds and the bees from her grandma who brought multimedia resources to help during show and tell,” Payton chides.
“Show and tell?” I whisper, leaning in to her side.
“Penthouse and Playboy magazines. Plus, she left Grandpa’s copy of some cheesy 1970’s disco porno and told me to knock myself out.”
“That was educational,” Emma defends.
“It was not. It was disgusting and vulgar. Not to mention the fact that I was never able to look at a roller skating rink the same.”
“That was my favorite scene,” Orval says with a fond grin. “This girl was bent over, her rump in the air, while her partner held on to her hips for leverage, all while skating around the rink. It was a true test of her flexibility and his stamina. I could never get my Emma to reenact that scene with me.”
“Please stop,” Payton and Lexi both beg at the same time.
“I want to skate! I’ll go skating with you!” Bri exclaims innocently, making me choke on the ice tea the waitress just delivered.
“Yes! Let’s go skating. Orval, let’s plan to take Miss Brielle skating soon.”
“You guys can’t go skating. You’ll break your hips,” Payton cries, outraged at their carefree, blasé outlook on something as dangerous as roller skating.
“We’ll be fine. If we were at risk of breaking a hip, it would have happened by now. Your grandfather is a fan of my nimbleness.”
“Jesus, kill me now. Are you sure you don’t want to get our own table?” Payton mumbles.
“Can I go with you?” Lexi asks.
Fortunately, the rest of dinner progresses without any more talk about sex. Bri ordered the chicken fingers and ate all but one. Plus, she had some peaches and a bunch of Payton’s fries. Considering it wasn’t mac and cheese, I was happy with her meal choice. Payton seemed to relax through dinner, offering me a few genuine smiles as she shared stories of her childhood and the antics of her and her sisters.
When dinner is done and dessert nothing but empty plates and bowls, we get up to leave. I try to pay for our dinners, but Orval won’t hear of it. He wouldn’t even accept cash to put towards the bill or the tip.
“Thank you for dinner,” I tell them as we all stand up and gather jackets.
“It was my pleasure. I’m glad we ran into you,” Orval says, sticking his hand out for me to shake.
