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“Well, you don’t need to bake anything, but I can always use extra hands. But you must demonstrate your cooking technique for me some time. I’m totally cereal about it!”
Vince glares at me and I nearly squirt my almond milk out my nose.
Max pipes up cheerily, “We have cereal for dinner all the time! You can come!”
Vince raises his chin at Max and says, “Zip it, kid. Don’t go telling your teacher you eat sugar for dinner.”
“Why not?”
I reach across the table put my hand on Vince’s tattooed forearm—his very masculine, sinewy…strong…forearm…was this the arm, the hand, that knocked that guy on his ass? Damn, my pounding heart loves that story.
“Listen, Vince, you can feed the kid Pop-Tarts, as far as I’m concerned, because at the moment, Max is putting a hurt on his green beans, applesauce, and sautéed seitan.” I say this to Vince with all the sincerity I can muster. I can muster a lot.
“Is it good, little man?” Vince asks.
Max nods but doesn’t stop eating to say any words.
“I don’t know what you said to him last night but he’s been completely different all day in school today,” I tell him.
Vince pokes at the greens on his tray in front of him. I hope he didn’t feel obligat
ed to eat a salad on my account.
“All I said was, ‘your teacher’s a nice lady and you can trust her.’”
Max looks up at me and grins while chewing his green beans. Actually grins. His eyes are big pools of velvety brown and they actually sparkle. My heart melts.
I look at Vince, who is still not exactly smiling at me but doesn’t look quite as mad as yesterday.
“You told him I was a nice lady?”
Vince shrugs and sort of grunts, looking embarrassed.
“I think you’re nice too,” I say, beaming at him.
10
Vince
I don’t really know why, but I’m walking with Jewel and Max out to the playground after lunch. It’s like I can’t tear myself away.
And then I feel like a dope because now she has to ask me to go because I can’t take a hint.
“Parents are not encouraged to hang out on the playground unless they are volunteers. Would you like to apply to be an official volunteer at the school? We could use you.”
I huff, “You don’t want me volunteering with other kids. But I would like to have dinner sometime.”
I help her hold the doors open as her kids file outside and make like wild animals toward the swings and the jungle gyms. “You mean like a gourmet cereal dinner date? You and me and Max? I would get a huge Kix out of that!”
11
Jewel
Oh my god, Vince’s face. I do so enjoy annoying him with my puns. The madder he gets, the more beautiful he is. The more he glares at me, the more I tingle. Yesterday, when he was telling me the story about snapping and punching that child abuser, I was one hundred percent creaming my undies. Today, simply being near him, watching him bristle at every silly joke I make, is no less of a turn-on.
He leans in close as I’m about to let go of the door and follow my kids outside. “Not cereal. Actual food.”
My mouth falls open.
