I nod. “Yeah, but nothing like this,” I reply, gesturing to the tomato pasta before us as she takes a bite. “She taught me all those classic Irish recipes. Potato scones, soda bread, stuff like that?—”
“Soda bread?” she replies, wrinkling her nose in confusion. “What, like bread made of soda?”
“Not exactly,” I reply. “I can show you how to make it, if you like. It’s pretty easy, and it goes well with everything, especially soup.”
“Hmm, I think I’ll start with the simpler stuff first,” she replies. “This is just as good as it looks, by the way. Thanks for sparing me another night of takeout.”
“You’re welcome.”
We eat together in silence for a moment, the companionable quiet between us filling the air. It’s not like when we went to dinner last week, when I was doing everything I could to keep things aboveboard and focused on the twins.
No, this feels…this feels distinctly new. Distinctly comfortable. Like this is what I should have been doing from the start. Imight want to think I can keep my distance and play the logical game, but I’m not the kind of guy who can just check out of the emotional side of things, no matter how hard I try.
And there’s something about this that I have really missed. Something I couldn’t have put into words before this moment, but that I’m glad I no longer have to. It’s not that I wish I could go back in time and do this family stuff all over again with Thomas and Martha. No, the memories of the tension and discomfort are still too fresh in my brain for anything like that. But sharing a space with someone, the simple act of sitting on the couch and eating a meal and talking about nothing in particular while we both watch the babies on the monitor before us…it’s like a gap I didn’t even know I had in me has been filled, if only for tonight.
“I saw the pictures in your room,” I remark. “Travel photos?”
“Yeah, just not mine,” she replies with a slight laugh.
“You haven’t been to those places?”
“Are you kidding?” she exclaims, her eyebrows shooting upward. “The furthest I ever got out of New York was your cabin. And with the twins, I don’t think I’m going to be taking any more trips anytime soon…”
“You can travel with kids,” I reason. “Might take a little more planning, but it’s possible.”
“Oh, it’s not the kids I’m worried about,” she replies, gesturing toward the room next door where they’re sleeping. “I’m more worried about the fact that I can hardly afford this apartment, let alone to fly them off across the country.”
“You know, I meant it when I said I would help out in any way I could,” I remind her, and she twists her mouth to the side, staring down at her plate for a moment.
“Yeah, but it’s not fair for me to ask you to pay for things like that,” she mutters. “It’s—those are luxuries. We don’t need them. As long as we can get by, that’s what matters.” She takes another bite of her food, clearly turning the notion over in her head.
“I’m offering, though,” I point out gently. “You’re not asking me to pay for that stuff. And these are my kids too. I want them to have all the experiences they can, at least, if that’s available to them.”
She glances up at me, her eyes perking up a little. “You…you think that might be possible? Sometime down the line, I mean? Traveling with them?”
“Pick a destination,” I reply with a shrug. “I’ll figure out a way to make it happen.”
“You really have the money for that?”
“Lila, I’ve been working as a medical specialist for decades,” I remind her. “I don’t spend my money on much. I’ve saved up plenty over the years.”
“Damn, maybe I should ask for more, then,” she jokes, but I grin.
“Maybe you should.”
She grabs another forkful of pasta, glancing up at the monitor for a moment before she takes a bite.
“I’m sorry,” she murmurs. “I’m just—I’m not used to relying on anyone else. Not if I can help it.”
“Because of how you grew up?”
She nods. “I mean, aside from Sofia, I didn’t have anyone I could turn to when I needed stuff,” she confesses. “I learned to rely on myself. And I figured it would be the same after I got pregnant too, especially since I didn’t even know your name. I thought—I thought I would just have to find a way through it on my own, but…”
“I don’t know anyone who could manage taking care of newborn twins on their own the first time they got pregnant,” I reply. “And trust me, I’ve seen plenty of people having kids.”
“Yeah, I think I was probably being a little naive, looking back,” she agrees with a giggle. “If I didn’t have Sofia here, I probably would have lost it already. And if you hadn’t?—”
She stops herself in her tracks, like she doesn’t want to come out with any more than she already has. But I lift my chin, silently telling her that she can go on. She swallows her food, and continues, speaking more carefully this time.
