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“We have to wait in line, Eli,” Maggie says matter-of-factly, and Eli, who looks up to his sister, obediently goes to take her hand and wait in line ahead of me, but the lure of the display counter seems too big of a temptation and in seconds, both of them are running and gluing their faces to the glass, each pointing at different treats, apparently trying to beat each other at who finds the best one.
A young woman is in line ahead of me, wearing a pair of jeans and a crop-top. She has a dirty blonde high ponytail. She is pushed back, almost bumping into me, when Maggie and Eli crowd in front of her, as she’s waiting for her order.
I hold her up and away from me, and when she looks back to both apologize and thank me, I realize she is much younger than I expected. The kids are all up in her space now, talking a mile a minute and she has to walk around them to get to the counter now.
Horrified, I call “Maggie, Eli, please come back here. We have to wait our turn in line or no cake pops for you.” The kids look at me as if I’m an ogre depriving them of their most treasured possession. Then to the woman I say, “Sorry. My kids don’t know what personal space is.”
“It’s all right,” she says, smiling down at them.
Eli looks dejected, and having been scolded, Maggie is now mad. She gives the woman a death glare that I swear only six-year-olds are capable of.
“What’s your name?” the woman asks her undeterred by her attitude, and Maggie looks down before answering.
“Margaret,” she mumbles. “Margaret Veronica Ledderman.”
“What a big girl name!” the woman says brightly.
Maggie looks at her and her eyes are shining. “I like when people call me Maggie,” she says shily, and I blink down at her, surprised. Maggie doesn’t like speaking to people, and she’s usually either pretty standoffish or pretty shy depending on the person.
The woman crouches down to Maggie’s level and offers her hand. When Maggie takes it, she shakes her hand firmly. “I’m Kenna,” she says.
Eli just stares at her with wide green eyes. “Eli,” he says, simple enough, and I bite my lip to keep from laughing.
“We should probably leave this lovely young woman alone,” I say, taking their hands. “Why don’t you two find us a table?”
“Cake?” Eli asks hopefully.
“Cakepops,” I say, unwilling to let him have cheesecake this early in the morning even if he did eat eggs and drink some orange juice before we left the house.
Eli doesn’t complain and Maggie drags him toward a seat near the window.
I turn back to the young woman, smiling. “I really am sorry about that,” I say, and she waves a hand dismissively.
“It was no problem at all. They’re adorable,” she says with a bright smile.
She’s quite pretty, althoughwaytoo young for me. She has bright blue eyes and a pretty, crooked smile.
“Kenna, was it?” I ask, just to be polite. I feel awkward in these kinds of social situations. In high school, Suzanna pursued me like a Pitbull, and I’d gotten into a relationship with her that had spanned nearly thirteen years. I’m okay fraternizing at work, but it’s never more than friendly banter or innocent flirting with women I know are unavailable. And they know I’m unavailable too and it’s all for fun. Outside of work, though, I get all awkward and tongue-tied.
“That’s me,” she says, sounding bubbly.
“I’m Derek,” I say. “Since my kids didn’t introduce me.” It sounds dumb even to my own ears, but Kenna smiles.
“Nice to meet you,” she says quietly, and then grabs her order from the barista when they call her name.
I stare at her for a moment longer before looking toward the barista, almost glad when Kenna walks away that I don’t have to keep up conversation, because I kind of suck at it.
The kids are bouncing around near the window, making a ruckus and just being kids, honestly, but a few people there are starting to give them the looks. So, I order quickly and head over toward them.
I pull out a couple of sheets of paper from my briefcase and some crayons that I keep in there for the kids and Eli and Maggie both begin to draw. Eli nearly draws on the tabletop, too, but thank God they’re erasable crayons.
Eli pauses after a few moments, looking around, and I freeze, thinking he’s probably going to go wild waiting for his cake pop. Turns out I’m looking at the wrong kid, because Maggie turns over the sugar container and it spills all over the table as they finally call my name for the cake pops, strawberry smoothies, and latte.
“Shit,” I mutter.
“Daddy, you said a bad word.”Shit!I almost said it again.
“Sorry, honey. Daddy—” At that second, Eli starts to fuss too.
