“That she does.” I said. “Do you want to sit down?”
I pointed to the barstools opposite the counter where Oma was busy taking the pie out of the oven. The coffee was ready and waiting, and she’d even whipped cream for him. I always had to whip my own cream if I wanted any.
Rhett sat down, looking around the kitchen. I felt almost embarrassed having him in my space. Always had. He was used to money. What would he think about our tiny house? The worn cupboards, scratched counters and outdated appliances?
“Thank you for having me, Edeltraud, your house looks just like I remember. Always loved coming here,” he said as if sensing my unease.
“And we loved your visits. Now how much pie do you want?” Oma indicated about a quarter of the pie and despite Rhett’s protest she cut it for him. After dumping half the whipped cream on top, she handed him a plate. Food for Oma equalled affection. Lots of food meant she liked you. If she gave you the smallest piece, you were screwed. Guess she still thought highly of Rhett.
“Probably not such a great friend towards the end,” he said around mouthfuls of pie. I don’t think we were supposed to hear but since I was right next to him, I did. Josie chose that moment to throw her sandwich, and it landed on Rhett’s lap, breaking the somber mood. The kid had a great sense of timing.
“Josie, no throwing your food,” I chastised. Food throwing usually meant she was done so I helped her out of her seat and put her on the floor. Rhett fished the sandwich off his lap and I took it off him with an apologetic grin. Josie went to Rhett and lifted her little arms, wanting to be picked up. She wasn’t a shy kid, but she never usually just went up to strangers. I watched Rhett’s brows go up. And then Oma and I watched in fascination when Josie wrapped him around her little finger in three seconds flat. He picked her up, not quite sure how to hold her but eventually putting her down on his lap.
She clapped her hands and then pointed at his plate. Of course. Pie. That explained so much.
“Is she allowed to have some?” He looked at me, his fork already moving towards his pie.
“Sure, go for it. But maybe I should take her though, she’ll stain your suit.”
I pointed at the pristine and very expensive-looking suit he was wearing. He shook his head and dipped his fork in the pie, cutting off a small piece and dragging it through the cream. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not,” he said and watched Josie who was vibrating with excitement. The kid loved her sugar. Rhett held the fork out in front of her and she lunged at it. Lucky he had quick reflexes and she didn’t head-butt herself on the counter.
Once she was sitting upright again he put the pie in her mouth, and she happily munched on it, already pointing again. “More.”
And that’s when the unthinkable happened. He chuckled. A carefree, happy chuckle that transformed his whole face and made him look even hotter.
I turned away, afraid my face would show my feelings and busied myself with cleaning around the highchair where Josie had left half her food.
Rhett was really good with her. Patient, gentle and entertaining. She went from giggling to pointing to babbling and saying, “More, more.” I was watching them, wishing for things that couldn’t ever be. Rhett caught my eyes and his lip twitched up in a whisper of a smile. It almost seemed as if we were having a moment. But that was impossible since we hadn’t talked in such a long time. We were different people with different goals. There couldn’t be any moment between us.
Josie clapped her little hands in front of him, demanding his attention.
This felt familiar. Normal. He fit right in. And I loved it. Having him in my space, taking care of Josie, showing me what could have been. Bittersweet was probably a better description.
Oma broke the prolonged silence when she proclaimed, “Dinner is ready.” I had already set the table and helped her carry all the dishes over, the smell making my mouth water. The fact that she had just served dessert before dinner made nobody pause. That’s how we did things and Rhett must have remembered because he didn’t question it.
We all took a seat, Rhett’s big frame dwarfing our small kitchen table. Josie insisted on sitting next to Rhett, who swapped seats with Freddie when Josie tried to drag her highchair next to him. I was too stunned to do anything but stare.
I had a boyfriend when I took custody of Josie and she hated him from the moment she first met him. The feeling was mutual, and I was beginning to think the kid had a great radar since he dumped me a few weeks into the whole ordeal. I couldn’t bring up the effort to care, having just lost my brother and gained a child who I was now solely responsible for.
Josie basically stalking Rhett didn’t make a lick of sense to me. It seemed the rest of the McAllister girls were all too willing to accept him into their midst. Oma was fawning over him, giving him an extra serving of everything. Freddie hadn’t complained about life in at least five minutes, telling me she was determined to make a good impression. And here I was, slack jawed and mute.
“How long has it been? Four years?” Oma asked.
“Three,” Rhett answered at the same time I did. I guess I wasn’t the only one keeping count. Oma smiled her secret, up-to-no-good smile in response.
“What did you do when you moved away?” Freddie chimed in. I was glad she did since I was dying to know what he’d been doing for the last few years.
“I started working for my father and moved to Denver. Most of the time I’m in New York, though. We just opened an office there.”
As if it was that easy. “You always said you would never sink so low as to work for him. What happened? Was the money too good to pass up?” I asked. Oma shot me a raised eyebrow but didn’t say anything. She was a woman of few words and I never appreciated it as much as I did at that moment.
“Things happen and you don’t always get to do what you want. I guess you’d know all about that,” Rhett replied and looked at Josie. What an ass, implying that I didn’t want Josie.
“I guess you don’t. But aren’t I glad for it because my life at least changed for the better. Can’t say the same for you,” I said, silently fuming.
“And how would you know?” he shot back. Neither one of us was interested in our food anymore. Rhett’s plate looked untouched, mine didn’t fare much better.
“You are working for your dad. Isn’t that all I need to know?”
