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Chapter Twenty-Two
Kathryn
“This is the perfect spot,” I tell Max as we admire his painting hanging prominently over the couch in the entertainment room.
“Do you like it?” the young boy asks, his baby blues full of hope and excitement.
“It’s the best baseball field with flowers I’ve ever seen,” I assure him, crouching down and giving him a hug. “I love that you gave it to me. Thank you.”
“In here, I can come see it all the time when I play games.” His smile radiates like a lighthouse in the night sky.
“You sure can. You’re welcome to come over and play games and watch television in here anytime, Max.”
“You called me Max,” he giggles, catching the fact I didn’t go with one of the alternative versions of his name this time.
“I’m sorry, my mistake, Maxarena.”
His contagious laughter fills the room and my heart. “That’s not a real name,” he insists through his happy giggles.
I can’t help but chuckle too. “No, it’s not, Just Max.” He yawns. “You’ve had a long day, my friend.”
“Am I spending the night here?” he asks, innocently.
Glancing at my watch, I realize Jensen has been gone several hours. It’s early evening and probably a bit past the appropriate time to feed Max dinner. I know we have some leftovers in the kitchen I can heat up, but I wish Jensen would call or text. I have no clue what’s going on or how long he’ll be. Emma and Orval went up a while ago to rest and I expect them to come down soon for dinner.
“I’m not sure,” I answer honestly. “Why don’t we go see if we can find a snack?”
“Okay,” he replies, sticking his little hand inside of mine and allowing me to lead him from the entertainment room and to the kitchen.
I help him sit on a stool at the island and head over to the fridge. “How about a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?” I ask, knowing all kids like those, right?
“I wove them!”
“One PB and J coming up!” I state, pulling the ingredients out of the fridge and pantry. It only takes me a minute to whip up a sandwich for him, cut into fourths the way I remember Rosie, my childhood nanny, used to do. I retrieve the gallon of milk from the fridge next. It’s skim milk, but I think I can find a bottle of chocolate to help mask the different taste.
“Thank you,” Max says as he takes a drink of the chocolate milk. He has jelly smeared on his cheek, but he seems happy and enjoying his sandwich.
It’s when I’m contemplating making myself a sandwich that I hear the front door open and close. Before I can head in that direction, Jensen comes into view, a hesitant smile on his gorgeous face. “Hey.”
“Hi,” I reply, standing up straight and giving him my own grin. “Everything okay?”
He nods. “It will be.”
“Hi, Daddy! Kate maked me a sandwich,” Max says, taking another big bite.
“Made you a sandwich, and that’s very nice of Kate. Were you a good boy while I was gone?” Jensen asks, coming over and kissing his son on the forehead.
Max nods insistently. “I finished my painting! We hungded it where the big TV is!”
“Hung it,” his dad corrects. “And I can’t wait to see it.”
“Finish your sandwich and we’ll show him,” I insist, cleaning up the crumbs I left on the counter from cutting the sandwich.
Jensen comes up behind me, his warm arms caging me to the countertop. “Thank you,” he whispers, his hot breath tickling my neck.
“It was no problem. He’s a wonderful little boy,” I tell him, turning my neck ever so slightly as his lips skim over my sensitive skin.
“He is,” Jensen practically grunts. He wraps his arms around me and holds me to his chest, my back to his front.
