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His brow furrowed. “You said the same thing about Miss Piper.”
I shudder. Benji laughs. “Don’t talk about Miss Piper,” I gripe.
Benji giggles. I stir the sauce and the noodles.
“Don’t forget the garlic bread!” Benji reminds me before hopping off the stool and going to set the table.
“How could I ever forget the garlic bread,” I mutter, putting the homemade cheesy bread in the oven. There isn’t even any garlic on it because Angie hates garlic, but Benji refuses to eat spaghetti without it.
“Ang, put your picture away,” I say loudly. She looks at me, eyes wide, and then pretends not to have heard me. “Angie.”
“Daddy, I can’t hear you,” she says, furiously scribbling.
“Then how did you know I was talking to you?” The noodles are done, so I lift the pot and carefully drain them.
“I… can read your mind?” Angie says it like a question.
“Then you can read my mind telling you to put your stuff away.”
She freezes, clearly caught in the semantics of her own lie.
Benjamin is annoyed at having done the table by himself, so he yanks the coloring book away, which causes Angie to scribble,which causes Angie to scream, which causes Benji to laugh, which causes Angie to cry?—
All in all, it’s another thirty minutes later before we sit down to eat. The spaghetti is cold, the bread is burned, and the kids have basically threatened to call a lawyer about custody if I suggest they add salad to their plates one more time.
I’ve really, really missed them.
“Daddy,” Angie smiles up at me sweetly, spinning spaghetti on her fork. She is so messy, I think Jessi would scream if she saw the amount of marinara on our daughter’s head.
“Yes, my angel?”
“Is Lewis’ sister your girlfriend?”
The question makes me choke. I hack up ginger ale while Benjamin laughs gleefully.
“Where did that come from?” I ask, mostly as a way to stall.
“Ariel kisses Prince Eric because she’s his girlfriend,” Angie says. Then, slower, like I’m a bit dim, “They’re in love.”
“Right.” I take a drink of the ginger ale. My throat burns a little from the bubbles, and I let it hurt because it’s distracting me from the way Angie is looking at me.
“Daddy?” Angie prompts.
Benjamin leans back in his seat, brow cocked. “Yeah. Well, Dad? Is she your Ariel?”
“Shedoeshave red hair,” Angie adds. She looks off into the distance, as if considering. “She wasn’t wearing purple, but I guess that’s just the movie.”
I wish their mother was here. Jessi has always been better at diffusing things than me. She’s a good mom, and she probably would know instantly how to get Angie on a new topic.
Me, though… Well, as much as I love my kids and as hard as I try, I’ve never really been able to control a situation with them.
They wait with varying degrees of interest. Benjamin mostly seems interested in watching my flounder, and I suppose that’sfair—we’d donesucha good job introducing the kids to Lewis. I had really, royally cocked up this introduction. Angie looked interested in the answer, but I wasn’t sure which way she wanted it to go.
“Miss James?—”
“Who is that?” Angie interrupts.
Benjamin snickers.
