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“Hey, buddy,” I said as Judah pulled himself up and looked at me over the crib bars. “Want to go get a snack?” I asked, all the frustration from earlier gone. And I knew damn well it was from the orgasms, not the shower.
I gathered Judah, then we made our way downstairs to find a note on the island, telling us that Aurelio had a meeting.
I glanced at the clock, thinking there was no way he was going to be home in time to prepare dinner. His meetings usually ran a few hours.
“I guess we are cooking tonight, buddy,” I said, and I found I was actually excited at the prospect of cooking for Aurelio.
I’d made the brownies that one night. But I hadn’t gotten a chance to feed him like he’d been feeding me.
I set Judah in his highchair with some cut up fruit, then started to rummage around the fridge and pantry, making a plan for a meal I hoped would knock his socks off.
Not Italian.
I wasn’t naive enough to think he would be impressed with anything I made from that particular kind of cuisine. Not with his skills with it and, I imagined, his mother’s and other family members’.
So I decided on something hearty and unfussy. Steak with mushrooms and onions with a side of seasoned smashed potatoes, and green beans.
And something for dessert.
The options were limitless. I’d never seen a kitchen as well-stocked as his. Literally anything I could need to make just about any kind of dessert was available. The man even had frozen puff pastry available.
“How about some apple turnovers?” I asked Judah as he smushed a strawberry into his tray.
Judah had been loving the change in his diet since we’d come here. He’d always been willing to eat what he was served in the past, not really having any choice in the matter if he didn’t want to be hungry. But with Aurelio’s cooking, he was eating with gusto, and I was happy to start seeing a bit more baby pudge on him.
As for me, yeah, I was putting my son to shame with how much I was enjoying the food. We hadn’t even been around that long, but I could swear that some of the bones that had been sticking out of my skin already seemed to be softened with a little bit of flesh over them.
I set the steaks to marinade and cleaned up Judah before setting him at the island in his handy-dandy convertible highchair/step stool.
Most nights, Aurelio converted it for my son, setting him up at the island with a bunch of his fake food toys, the kind with velcro that connects them, so he could use the little wooden knife to ‘slice’ them, imitating Aurelio as he prepared dinner.
I’m sure you could imagine the little heart-squeeze I got each time I saw that.
I was just about to start slicing the tips off of the green beans when, suddenly, the front door opened with a familiar beep-beep-beep of the alarm system.
There was a second of disappointment, having wanted to get the meal at least mostly prepared before he came home.
That disappointment, though, was quickly replaced with something else entirely.
When the footsteps that came toward us had a certain kind of click to them.
Like high heels.
I couldn’t seem to wrap my head around that, though, until a woman was stepping into the doorway of the kitchen, arms full of bags.
From the look on her face, she was just as shocked to see me as I was to see her.
Maybe my first instinct should have been to feel fear, since Aurelio never mentioned anyone else coming to the house.
But what did my mind immediately go to?
Jealousy.
Because, God, this woman was absolutely drop-dead gorgeous with her fit, curvy body, her deep eyes, her gleaming, dark hair, her perfectly feminine face.
She was dressed in a pair of black slacks, icepick heels, and a buttery-soft looking light yellow button-up.
Who could she be?
