I laugh. I’ve never seen her wear her current expression in my life. This will be a story for her friends back home. Her face looks as if she’s taken a shot of whiskey while sucking on a lemon.
“Just in case you were wondering, that was for real,” Nate whispers in my ear before he straightens and stands next to the couch.
My eyes widen and I mouth the word, “What?” But he doesn’t answer.
If you had askedme two days ago what I thought of couples who were lovey-dovey, I would’ve made a gagging sound and told you they were the worst. I would have been wrong. They are the best.
Over the last few hours, Nate and I have thrust ourselves into the most over-the-top sweet and loving couple I’ve ever seen. I’d say you couldn’t make this shit up, but we are. It’s all natural.
It’s wonderful to see the look on my mother’s face. Best. Day. Ever.
“Here’s a glass of water to take your pill,” Nate says handing me the glass with just a few inches of water and a pain pill. “Is there anything else I can get for you, snookums?”
I smile widely while taking the glass. “No, thanks, lover.”
From behind Nate’s back I watch as my mother rolls her eyes, thinking I can’t see her. If she does it too many more times, they’re liable to stick that way.
He stops for a second, staring into my eyes smiling. It’s the new trick we’ve started, which evolved throughout the day. The prolonged silence and intense stare are driving my mother insane. Every time we do it, she huffs and I have to stop myself from laughing out loud. It’s all fun and games now, but if she figures out we’re messing with her, there will be hell to pay.
Until then I’m relishing how much I love playing house with Nate.
My personal hot man walks back into the kitchen with my empty water glass, and my mom huffs, standing up and brushing a few invisible lint pieces from her pants.
“Since you’ve moved on from Barry so quickly, I don’t know why I’m here.”
I don’t either,I say, but only in my head.
“I’ll give Emma a bath.” She picks up the clean child from the floor and straddles her on her hip.
I smile. It makes me a horrible person that I’m doing this to my mother, but I can’t help myself. “Would you like Nate to help you? He’s got bath time down pat.” Lies.
My mother scowls and I secretly laugh as she refuses the offer. Nate has no clue what he’s doing when it comes to bath time.
“No, I have it under control.” She and Emma stomp off to the bathroom and I’m left hiding a giggle under my breath.
Tomorrow I’m sure there will be guilt for how upset she is, but she’s being rather ridiculous. What mother is upset her daughter found happiness? Frankly, if this thing with Nate were true, I’d be pissed.
The room heats… Or more so it smells hot. Like someone left a curling iron on a little too long.
“Nate?” I call to the empty living room, hesitantly standing.
There’s no response, and so with a single crutch I walk into the kitchen where I find Nate bent over the open oven. A few tendrils of smoke rise to the ceiling as he pulls out a pan of blackened cookies.
“Oh no,” I say watching the smoke rise higher and higher. “Get the batteries out of the smoke alarm. Quick!”
Nate listens and, without having to use the chair, grabs the alarm from the kitchen wall and dislodges the batteries. The alarm makes a small beep, but it’s more of a warning the batteries are out than an alarm over the smoke. I think he made it in time.
“What are we going to do with these?” he asks, hitting one a cookie with the spatula. It doesn’t dislodge from the pan.
He looks so crestfallen, like these cookies were his life’s mission. I can’t let him go down without a fight. The man’s a saint. He can’t lose his mojo over burnt chocolate.
“Let me find my cell phone and I might have an idea. Hide the evidence and keep the oven on warm.”
6
The smart phone, my link to the outside world, balances precariously on the arm of the couch. It only takes a few quick text messages with Winnie and we have a solution to the problem on the way. Having a friend who works at the bakery comes in handy.
The metal spatula scrapes against the pan as Nate does his best to chip away the blackened cookies hiding in the kitchen trash while I stare at him from the entryway.
