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"Sorry, boys. No pizza up here. But I will try to time the spaghetti better tonight. I promise. Now, back on the sofa. You're still doing penance for having tied up Quinn and stuffed a sock in her mouth."
Dejected and grumbling, the two little boys shuffled sullenly back into the living room.
"We're bored."
"We want TV."
Cale grimaced and shrugged his shoulders. "It's hard to keep them amused sometimes. They're used to video games and cartoons."
I'm sure your wife will have some ideas to keep them busy," Quinn leaned against the doorway.
"Oh, she has some ideas, all right," Cale laughed grimly. "All of which conveniently leave her out of the picture."
Quinn looked at him blankly, not comprehending.
"My wife left me. We're divorced." He said it simply, with the same amount of emotion as when he had told his sons what was on the dinner menu.
"I see," she said, not at all seeing how any woman could leave a man like Cale.
There was a crash from the living room.
Then again, Quinn silently acknowledged, there may have been other considerations.
* * *
Chapter Six
The water in the teapot began to boil, emitting a hostile whistle. On his way into the living room to assess the latest damage inflicted by his offspring, Cale hesitated, debating which to tend to first.
"You finish with the tea. I’ll see what's going on in there," Quinn said, grateful for an opportunity to flee the kitchen's close quarters and the overwhelming nearness of him. It was far too much too soon, after way too long.
Hearing her approach, the boys scurried back to their places on either end of the sofa.
"So, guys," Quinn asked as she righted the lamp, "what's doing?"
"We are being bored," the one on the right told her, his arms folded across his chest in much the same way as Cale had done earlier.
"Yeah," said the one on the left, narrowing his eyes meaningfully, "and you know what happens when little kids get bored."
"No." She pulled up a small ottoman and sat down facing them. "What happens when little kids get bored?"
"They bounce off walls," one said, repeating the phrase he had heard his father use earlier.
"They get carried away," the other told her.
"Well, I wouldn't know, not having any little kids," she said. "But if I did, there would be no wall-bouncing. And no one would have time to get carried away."
"Why not?" they asked in unison.
"They'd be much too busy."
"Like watching TV and stuff, rfcht?" One nodded approvingly.
She shook her head. "We'd be doing much more fun things."
They exchanged an uneasy glance. Grown-ups never referred to TV as a fun thing.
"Like what?"
