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“Jeez. Hello to you, too, grumpy pants. You going to be home soon?”
“Yeah.” I started my car and blasted the air conditioning. It was sweltering today, and just in that short walk, my shirt was clinging to my skin. The humidity was high. “What’s up?”
“Wanted to stop by for dinner, if you didn’t mind. I don’t get paid for another couple of days—”
“Bro,” I said, cutting him off, “I don’t need your excuses. You’re always welcome for dinner.”
Kaleb moved out of his parents’ place shortly after Elizabeth gave birth to Nathan. He stayed with us for a couple of weeks like we’d planned anyway—long enough to get on his feet. My parents helped him get set up in an apartment in town, and he attended college locally with me, though he had classes on the days I didn’t. But since he was essentially cut off from his parents for not chasing the dream they wanted him to chase, he was on his own.
Which meant sometimes, he needed a meal or two during the week until his paycheck hit. I never minded, and I knew Elizabeth didn’t either. Besides, he always helped out with Nathan in exchange, even though we never expected anything in return.
Kaleb was our best friend, and for me and Elizabeth, it was as simple as that. And honestly, Kaleb was Elizabeth’s slightly older brother in every way except blood. He took care of her, and she took care of him in turn. Our friends didn’t understand how I didn’t get jealous, but I knew Kaleb like the back of my hand. And I knew when he was interested in someone and when he wasn’t.
He really did only love Elizabeth like a little sister.
When I got home, Nathan was outside playing in the front yard, and Elizabeth was sitting in the rocking chair on our small front porch, drinking a glass of sweet tea, her eyes on him. She was as overprotective as they came, and I loved that about her. She’d never let anything harm a hair on our child’s head.
She was determined to be nothing like her parents, and to be honest, I didn’t think she was capable of it. There wasn’t a mean bone in her little body. She even struggled to discipline Nathan when he needed it. Corner time, no toys, etc.—they were a battle for her to enforce.
But that was where I normally stepped in. I didn’t mind being hard on him, especially when he was running all over his mom with no respect for her. I loved my son, but I drew the line there. His mother was too precious to be treating horribly.
I slid out of the truck, laughing when Nathan launched his dirty body off the ground at me. I easily caught him and swept him up into my arms, not the least bit worried about my own clothes getting stained. Oxiclean would get it off, and if it didn’t, well, they’d just become work clothes. Simple as that.
It drove Elizabeth absolutely nuts.
“Daddy!” he yelled. Then, he planted a big, wet kiss on my cheek. “Mama made cupcakes.”
“Muffins,” Liz corrected as she walked down the porch. I held out a hand, and once she placed hers in mine, I drew her to me, planting a sweet kiss on her lips, making sure to keep it PG since our boy was in clear view. “Hello,” she greeted when I finally parted our lips.
“Hey, baby girl. Kaleb is coming for dinner.”
“Uncle Kaleb!” Nathan yelled before Elizabeth could respond. I shook my head, still surprised by his pronunciation and sentence structure. This kid was going to do fucking amazing things when he got older.
“Yes, kiddo, Uncle Kaleb,” I assured him. I looked back at my stunning, blonde wife. “We got enough for another person?”
She rolled her eyes at me, and I grinned. I knew it was a stupid question, but I also respected her enough to ask. Our marriage wouldn’t be as easy as it was if we didn’t communicate, even on the small things that most people didn’t think mattered.
“For Kaleb? Always,” she assured me. She leaned up and kissed my clean, non-slobbery cheek. “I’ll go get dinner started. Let him burn off some more energy please. He’s been hell on wheels today.”
I grinned at her as I ruffled Nathan’s already messy, dirty hair. “Got it, baby. You want him passing out at the dinner table or right when his belly is full?”
She laughed and shook her head, waving me off, not giving me an answer. I shrugged and set our little monster on his feet. “Alright, kid, let’s go see what we can get into.”
“Yay!” he yelled. Because he knew what that meant—Mama was going to be upset that we were dirty and tracking mud into her house later. But then, I’d clean it up while she propped her feet up on the coffee table and sipped at a glass of wine. If I made the mess, I cleaned it. And honestly, I usually cleaned up her messes, too.
