Well, not in her. I’ve seen it in others.
Nesting. My mate wants to make our den suitable for our family, and it gives her happiness to do so.
“You spoil me,” I sigh, bringing the plates of toast and scrambled eggs over to the table.
Her smile falters. “Matt used to say that. He used to love coming home to a clean house and a hot meal. Having a lunch packed full of homemade goodies, fresh cookies, and homemade bread every day. And then... the morning sickness hit so hard. I think that’s when he started picking on me. On the little things.”
My hand covers hers. “I won’t stop. Um. You know, people have different love languages, too. You sound like you love to do things for people. To give them your best effort, your time.”
“Mmhm.”
“Well, I like that, too. So, see, we’d be a good match, because I’d want to spoil you and the kids, and provide, and do the heavy lifting around the house. You know, bringing in the firewood, taking care of the lawn, stuff like that. And you’d tell me I was wonderful for reshingling the roof—in a fantasy world where I know how to do that without falling to my death,” I joke because I realize how serious my conversation got, how quickly it turned away from mere hypotheticals.
But Loretta picks up the thread of our fictional family life. “Then, after we’d brought you inside, chilly, but hopefully otherwise unbroken and in one piece, I’d have a big batch of beef stew nestled in creamy garlic mashed potatoes waiting for you, and we’d thank each other.”
“That’s right.”
I smile.
She smiles.
Loretta speaks again, and this time, the smile vanishes. “Or you’d come home, and I’d be in sweat pants and smell like a sweaty gym sock, and the twins would have been sick all day, and Ari would be home from preschool, blowing green snot out of her nose, and I would feel like I was getting something. Nothing would be ready. The house would look like the children’s pharmacy section barfed on the counter. Toys would be everywhere.” Her eyes are darting. Panic is rising in her voice. “Dishes would be piled in the sink. There wouldn’t have been any time to get dinner ready, and you’d be hungry and yelling, wondering why I couldn’t do anything—”
“Okay, first of all, there are two things wrong with this scenario. One— ‘you’d come home.’ I would have been there. Three sick kids and you think you’re getting sick, too? I’m sorry, I only need to be at the studio for a couple of hours. I would be here to help you with thevomitando grandetwins and the snot-nosed big sister.”
“Wh-what’s the other thing?”
“Several, in a bundle. You’re worried about dinner? Are we suddenly broke? Am I also afflicted with the plague?”
“No...”
“Then I can whip up something. I’m not this size without being able to feed myself,” I say, pointing to my impressive physique. (I’m allowed to brag when it’s comforting my mate!) “Or, I can order takeout. The Jade Forest has dumplings to die for, there’s a pizza shop, a new Italian bistro, and The River House’s to-go menu is substantial. Secondly, me, yelling at you? In front of our kids? No. Not okay. Shows disrespect on so many levels, and I’m not like that. Third, yelling at you, at all? When you’re trying your best with a house full of sick kids? Or even just a day when time got away from you? What kind of ungrateful bastard am I in this world? Because I’m gonna talk to the other me and have a come-to-Jesus moment with him.”
Loretta’s smile creeps back, first one corner, then the other, melting my heart.
“You don’t just look like Superman, you’re a super hero, too.”
“Nah. Just the mild-mannered reporter.” I wink. “Also, I’m not so great. If you knew all there is to know about me, you’d pick someone better.”
“I don’t think there is anyone better. I just... I wish our timing had been different.”
The penny has officially dropped. We both realize it, I guess. Our friendship and my protectiveness have an undercurrent of attraction, of companionship that runs towards the romantic.
We both finish breakfast in silence.
When I’m going to leave, Loretta runs to the door, the baby on her hip, and she kisses my cheek. I kiss Ari’s head and gaze at Loretta in surprise. “What was that—”
“When you come home, tell me the bad things. Tell me why I’d leave.”
Because one bite from me would turn you into a monster. Because the wrong provocation and missing potions could turn this into a very different kind of Big Bad Wolf scenario. Because our kids would have werewolf DNA. It’ll be weaker than mine, and mine is weaker than my dad’s. Not being bitten directly makes you much less of a danger, but the danger is still there.
I hesitate, then punt. “Well, I make up songs about pooping spiders and flatulent ponies and sheep.”
Loretta laughs. “Yeah, but Ari loves them. Is that it?”
“Uh. I’m pretty useless when I’m doing my overnight sessions three nights a month.”
“But you’re not out of town, right? You’d still be around in the morning and the daytime?”
