Chapter Seven
Idon'tknowhowto react to how easily Gabe fits into our new lives.
Owen gives him a whole ten seconds to say hi and hand over the ingredients for dinner before taking his hand and pulling him to show off his room. Owen is talking plenty loud enough and Gabe answers with the same enthusiasm that I don't bother following. I smile when I hear Gabe asking specific questions about some of the toys. He really is good with kids. I can see the whole Daddy thing and how it works for him.
Thoughts flash through my mind of our time at the club last week. I'm no stranger to a hook up, but what we did was something completely different. It felt different. Still feels different. Finding someone I'm attracted to is the last thing on my to-do list.
Actually, it wasn't even on the list.
After unpacking, the whole list went as follows: make sure my paperwork for work is in order, get Owen signed up for kindergarten and ready for the orientation next week. That’s it. That’s the list. And it’s a lot.
Also, I am not ready for Owen to start school; he's growing up too fast.
"What do you think you're doing?" Gabe's voice pulls me out of my thoughts and I look up. I know I look like a deer stuck inheadlights. Gabe's smile is slightly lopsided, and I drop the noodles into the water.
"Cooking?" I say the word slowly and raise the end of it like a question. "Was I not supposed to? You handed me the bag, so I just assumed."
"I handed you the bag because Owen was pulling me away." Gabe crosses the open space and stands inches away from me. A warm hand encases my hip. My glance shoots towards the living room and hallway, confirming that Owen isn't in sight. "I didn't come over here for you to cook, sweetheart. I'm doing all the heavy lifting tonight." His fingers trail slowly up under the hem of my shirt. It's a small touch but shivers rush through my body. "Why don't you get out of these jeans and find a movie for all of us to watch?"
"Okay." My voice is barely above a whisper, but my dick is definitely making some noise. Well, if dicks made noise.
Gabe's hand drops and he winks at me before turning toward the stove and hip checking me to move out of the way.
I walk past my bedroom door and peek into Owen's room. His head is hidden in a shirt and I'm pretty sure his pajama pants are on backward. The sight is adorable. I lean against the doorframe with my arms crossed and watch the struggle to get his head through the correct hole. He gives me a bright smile when he sees me.
"Gabe said we're going to have spaghetti with balls tonight!" Owen says excitedly. I feel my cheeks immediately redden with embarrassment.
I hear Gabe cough in the kitchen and lean back to look at him across the house. I love that it's a clear line of sight from one end to the other. His expression is one of holding back laughter. I turn back to my son.
"It's called spaghetti andmeatballs," I correct Owen.
His little head bobs, but he ploughs on with the conversation. "Gabe says we're going to watch a movie too. Is he staying with us?"
I brush away the mental image of the three of us living together. It is much too soon for even a thought like that. We don't know each other's middle names yet! But after calling him Daddy, some part of me has run far, far ahead of any kind of rational thought.
"He's going to be here for a little bit today," I answer, moving into his room and shutting the door behind me. This conversation is something I'd prefer Gabe not overhear. I squat down in front of Owen, lifting my arm to fix his mess of curls. "Are you okay with him being here? He's Daddy's friend, but this is your house too, buddy."
"I like him here," Owen says. "He asked me about all my toys and he tells jokes about dads."
I am somewhat of a Master in Owen-ese. ‘Jokes about dads’ means Dad Jokes. I can’t imagine what Gabe told him, but my son's laughter is a good sign.
I stand back up with the weight of that off my shoulders. "I'm going to change into my pajamas too, then we can pick out a movie together, okay?"
"Happy Feet!" Owen jumps up and down, giving a little dance move in excitement. "Penguins, please."
We've watched Happy Feet three times this week alone. I don't mind it, though, because I love the movie just as much as he does. Sometimes, I’ve even watched it without him.
"You can go out and ask Gabe if he wants to watch it, but fix your pants first, buddy. They're backwards. Remember how I told you that the little tag goes on your bottom?"
***
The house smells like garlic when I walk out of my own bedroom in a pair of gray sweats and a white t-shirt. I don't own any real sets of pajamas. Heat courses through me when I catch Gabe giving me an up-and-down onceover.
Owen is sitting at the island holding a slice of bread. It's the basic sandwich slice type and it's cut in half. Owen is truly glowing as he chews with his mouth wide open. "Daddy! Gabe gave me garlic bread! It's so yummy!"
"I cut it in half," Gabe says quickly. "He said he never had it and I don't know if that's true or not. Figured he could have the other half with his spaghetti…which will be ready in just a minute. I hope you don't mind I used your air fryer for the meatballs. I cleaned it already."
"The air fryer is a lifesaver," I say. "And it's okay with the bread. I don't think I've given it to him before, but he doesn't have any allergies. I would have told you if he did. On sandwich bread, though?"
