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“You wanna meet my dad?” he asks her, grinning a kind of smile that fucks me up a little.
“Yeah,” Elaine nods enthusiastically, and Caden opens the door wider to let me in.
We walk into the penthouse, and it smells heavenly. “Pops, they’re here,” Caden calls out as I walk over to the kitchen counter to put down the small cake box. When I turn around, I see Caden’s dad, Jacob, enter the living room with a friendly smile on his face.
His face lights up when he sees Elaine in Caden’s arms. “Well, who do we have here?” he asks dramatically, making my smile widen ever so slightly.
My daughter isn’t a shy girl. She meets Jacob’s gaze head on with a smile as Caden introduces, “This is Elaine. Elaine, this is my dad, Jacob.”
“Hi,” Elaine greets with an adorable wave.
Jacob has an endeared look on his face as I wander over to where they all stand, smiling softly at my daughter. “Hello, Miss Elaine. It’s lovely to meet you,” he says before his gaze shifts over to me. His smile widens. “She’s your carbon copy.”
I laugh gently, my gaze going to Elaine—and in doing so, going to Caden, as well. She is enamored by his tattoos, absently trailing her fingers over the designs much like I have in the past. My stomach twists. “Yeah, we get that a lot,” I say to Jacob, trying to pull my gaze away from Caden and my kid. I glance towards the kitchen before saying, “It smells incredible in here.”
Jacob grins proudly. “We made steaks—Caden told me you like yours well done.” I glance at him, but Caden and Elaine are wrapped up in a conversation. Jacob continues, “But we’ve also got some mashed potatoes, pasta, roasted vegetables—the works.”
My eyebrows rise. That’s a whole spread. “Did you both cook it all yourselves?” I ask, impressed.
“Of course,” Jacob laughs before jerking his chin at Caden. “My boy makes a mean steak. Has he ever made it for you before?”
I briefly bite the inside of my cheek as Caden looks at his dad before looking at me. My cheeks warm as I shake my head, offering Jacob a smile. “No, never got the chance to,” I say with a forced chuckle.
God, why do I feel so awkward?
“Well,” Jacob continues, moving forward like I don’t feel my stomach tightening. “I figured we’d wait before eating, but the steaks just finished, and everything is fresh and hot, so—shall we eat?” he asks, gaze flickering between Caden and me questioningly.
Caden gives a nod with a single dip of his chin. “I’m good with that,” he says, looking toward me.
I nod as well, and the four of us head over to the dining room where it is all set up for a table for four. Caden places Elaine on one of the chairs, and I settle down next to her while he and his dad sit across from us. I make sure to put a napkin on her lap as I eye the spread in front of us. It looks delicious. A cup of water is placed for Elaine, while a bottle of red wine rests on the table for the rest of us. Steam billows up from the various dishes before us, and my stomach already threatens to growl.
Jacob takes it upon himself to serve us all the steak, and once he does, I put some mashed potatoes on Elaine’s plate. I cut the pieces of steak for her, small enough that she won’t have trouble chewing and swallowing. Caden is sitting directly across from me, and my skin heats up under my sweater dress under the familiar sensation of his gaze, and I want to tell him to stop. I want to tell him to not look at me like that because it trips my heart up and ceases the breath in my lungs.
But I don’t. I try to ignore it as best as I can.
As we begin eating—the food is as delicious as it smells—Jacob asks me, “Daria, have you been to one of Caden’s games?”
His question is innocent and curious, and as I chew my steak, I throw a furtive glance towards Caden. If I didn’t know any better, he looks a little exasperated that his dad would ask that. Looking back at Jacob, I say, “No, no, I haven’t. One day, though.”
I don’t know why I added that, but I find myself meaning it. I enjoy watching football—especially when the Rebels are playing. I know for a fact I would enjoy the hell out of attending a game in person, but I have never brought that up with Caden. When I look at him again, I see the surprise flickering across his hazel eyes as I voice a truth I haven’t ever told him. It only makes my cheeks warm up in mild embarrassment. Iwouldlike to attend one of Caden’s games, but tickets are expensive and out of my price range, and I wasnotgoing to ask him to get me tickets for free.
And the way Caden is looking at me right now tells me that he knows that as well, but the way his jaw works as he stabs a piece of steak speaks volumes to his annoyance over the matter.
As if sensing some of the tension that has descended in the room, Jacob continues the conversation. “So, you’re an artist, right?” he asks me, intrigue dancing in his eyes.
I nod as I swallow my food. “When I’m not teaching, yeah,” I reply with an airy laugh.
“That’s right—Caden told me you’re an art teacher,” Jacob says with a nod. “He also told me you did that painting of the Chicago skyline that’s hanging in the living room.”
I glance at Caden. He is just watching his dad and I talk, not contributing to the conversation. He has a carefully placed blank mask on his face, which makes me bristle in my seat because I can’t tell what he’s thinking. Sometimes, he becomes a little too good at hiding his emotions and thoughts.
“I did,” I tell Jacob, smiling. I want to add that the painting was intended as a gift to Caden, which was true in the beginning, but Caden had refused to accept it without paying a commission for it. Hehadasked for the painting, yeah, but he wouldn’t even accept a discount and paid full price.
“Your art is important. Don’t just give it away like it isn’t worth anything, because it is.”
I remember those words he had said to me when I had protested accepting a payment for the painting. They had sunk deeply into my bones, and was one of the first times I felt like I was worth it—not just my art. After being rejected and turned away by my parents and, in a way, by Logan when he reluctantly accepted his role as a dad and co-parent, to have someone like Caden say those words to me. . . They meant more than they should have. He was open and honest and told me exactly what was on his mind, and it meant a lot. It still means a lot.
“It’s beautiful,” Jacob praises with a smile, making my cheeks warm up in appreciation. “It’s great to have a passion, something that you’re not only good at but takes you to a different world.” His smile softens, and a faraway look settles in Jacob’s eyes. “That’s what music was for Sean. Any song the kid liked, and he learned it on the guitar or the drums within a day,” he adds with a nostalgic chuckle.
