“Yeah. My friends are more like my family.”
“I look forward to meeting them.” His lips twitch, and I almost choke on my water. “I didn’t mean for that to sound…I, um, just meant?—”
“It’s okay, Sloane. Youwillmeet them in due course. I have a few things to update you on after Elio is in bed.”
“What things?” Elio pipes up. His mouth and chin are covered in sauce, and I swear there’s more dinner on the table than on his plate or in his belly.
“Grown-up things, nosey.” Cristian boops his son on the nose.
“I’m getting bigger.” Elio puffs out his chest. “I’m almost a grown-up.”
Cristian chuckles. “Don’t be in such a rush to grow up, son. Trust me when I say things are much easier when you’re a kid.”
“For sure,” I readily agree, standing with my plate and silverware in hand.
“You’re really tall,” Elio says, peering up at me.
“I am.” I lift Cristian’s plate. “I was one of the tallest girls in my high school, and I got to play on the basketball team.”
“I love basketball!” Elio almost bursts with excitement. “Will you play with me?” His eyes are brimming with happiness.
“Sure will.”
“Yay!” He bounces around in his seat. “Can we go tomorrow, please, Daddy?”
“We can go to one of the courts tomorrow evening,” Cristian says, smiling at his son before he directs his attention to me. “Elio attends a weekly youth basketball clinic, and I try to take him to one of the courts in Central Park or the local indoor court, if it’s cold, at least once a week, so he can practice.” He stands. “Let me get those.” Before I can argue, he takes the stacked plates from my hands.
“It’s gonna be so much fun,” Elio proclaims before popping another piece of chicken into his mouth. I sit down beside him while Cristian is in the kitchen, and Elio babbles away, in between eating, filling me in on all the things he likes to do.
“All done, bud?” Cristian says a few minutes later, materializing at the table. He’s wiping his wet hands on a towel.
Elio nods, patting his stomach. “My tummy is full.”
Removing a wipe from the box in the center of the table, I take his little hands in mine as Cristian leans down to pluck up his son’s mostly empty plate. “I’m just gonna clean you up because someone got tomato sauce everywhere,” I tease.
“’Kay.” He’s fidgety in his chair as I methodically wipe his face and hands, removing all traces of his dinner from his skin. His clothes are a different story.
“Your hands are so soft.” He runs his finger over the back of my hand.
“So are yours.” I smile at him.
“You’re really pretty,” he says. “Like a princess.” He looks over my shoulder. “Isn’t she, Daddy?”
“Very pretty.”
Cristian’s deep tone does funny things to my insides, and my cheeks warm. “You will have all the girls swooning someday, Elio.”
“Girls are gross,” he says, and Cristian chuckles. “Except my aunties and you.”
“High praise indeed,” Cristian says with amusement underscoring his tone.
“Can Sloane give me my bath?”
“Of course.”
“Yay!” He jumps off his seat, grabs my hand, and pulls me up from my chair. “Come on, Slowpoke Sloane.”
I burst out laughing as his small, soft hand clamps around mine. This child is a hoot.
