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Our table seemed a mile long and it was mayhem. As if Andrea’s children weren’t enough to make us loud and obnoxious to all other customers, Duke and Dolores joined us, as did Dad and Malcolm. Duke, Tex, Dad and Malcolm seemed to be in a contest to out-booming-macho-male talk each other.
Lee slid into the seat beside me, his hair still wet from the shower and curling around his neck and ears. He was wearing a pair of beat-up, faded, army green cargo pants and a light-blue, loose-fitting collared shirt, untucked, the right amount of buttons left undone and the sleeves rolled partially up his forearms.
He looked hot.
For no apparent reason, before Lee fully settled into his seat, Andrea’s baby let out a high-pitched scream.
I liked kids, of course. Other people’s kids. In small doses. Very small doses.
Once Andrea had cooed it to semi-quietness, I turned to Lee.
“Do you want children?”
His eyes slid to me as he grabbed a menu.
He answered cautiously, “Yeah.”
“How many?”
He turned to me and his arm went around the back of my chair.
“Three.”
I thought about three children. They weren’t pleasant thoughts.
“And you?” Lee asked, gently tugging my hair.
“Hmm?”
“Kids?”
“I can’t even take care of my yard,” I reminded him.
He smiled The Smile and I immediately decided I’d like three kids a whole lot.
“How are things?” Dad asked Lee.
Lee glanced at Dad, took his arm from my chair then studied the menu. “Depends. Some are great, some not so good.”
Dad nodded, apparently happy with that answer or at least understanding it. I sat there thinking a lot more was said than what was actually said. Men had a mysterious way of communicating.
We ate. We chased after children who wanted to visit other diners’ tables. We talked. We laughed. And after a while I began to relax. Life had been so weird lately I didn’t even realize how tense it was making me. I didn’t realize how much I needed a night like tonight.
I poured honey on my crust and watched Tex, who seemed not like a man who had barricaded himself on his block for two decades, but like someone relaxed and who fit in with my family and friends.
Then again, you bought yourself some serious loyalty by saving a daughter/sister/girlfriend from being held hostage and getting shot for your troubles.
I ate my honeyed crust and my eyes moved to Lee, who was listening to Dolores. His thigh was pressed against mine under the table, and twice he had handed me the honey without me having to ask for it. The Savages and the Nightingales had been to Beau Jo’s dozens of times, either in Denver for whatever occasion, or Idaho Springs after a day of skiing.
Lee knew when I wanted the honey.
Yikes.
How did this happen?
There was no denying we were actuallytogether, not test-driving it. We’d blown right past the “getting to know you” phase of the relationship because we didn’t need it. We were smack dab into the comfortable part of a relationship—the part that held shared intimacy because of history.
Even so, we still had the thrill of the newness about our situation. Discovering hidden things about each other, like him having a housekeeper, keeping good java in the kitchen, being incredibly moody, kissing really, really well and having a naked body that was a gift from the gods.
