I situate a second plate in one hand, including the forks, knives, and napkins, using my free hand to serve us both food. Anytime we pass a dish that looks remotely like one that Reese described bringing, I ask for confirmation if it is. When she points out the three that are hers, I make sure to add a healthy serving of each on my plate.
Our plates are full by the time we reach the last table where the desserts are displayed.
“Oh shoot,” she says.
“We can come back for this.”
Reese lifts a brow in my direction.
“I meanyoucan come back for this. Alone. By yourself.”
She laughs under her breath, slowly walking away from the table of sweets. And that pure look of disappointment that she doesn’t have enough room on her plate for dessert is just another thing I like about the woman. “Okay.”
Using one of the plastic forks, I push all the food on my plate together, mixing the flavors in a way they probably shouldn’t be. But it buys me a bit of real estate along the edge. “Which one looks the best to you?”
Reese hums, stepping back to the table as she eyes each and every one carefully. “Maybe that one?”
“Good choice.” I add a scoop of my daughter’s blackberry cobbler to my plate for her. “Miller made this one. Well, I’m pretty sure she made most of these.”
“Did she? I haven’t gotten a chance to try one of her desserts before. I’ve heard the guys on the team raving whenever Kai brings her cookies to the field.”
“She’s incredible. You have to check out her patisserie.”
“I’d love that.”
“I’ll take you sometime.”
Reese opens her mouth to say something but doesn’t. A heavy pause lingers, and it’s then I realize my mistake.
“Or you could take yourself,” I amend.
We get through the food tables and move out of the way for everyone waiting behind us.
“I want to go sit with Miller.” I nod toward the direction of that picnic table. “I haven’t caught up with her yet today.”
“Sounds good.” Reese holds out the two beer bottles in exchange for her plate of food. “You’re a good dad, you know that?”
I should give her the plate. I should let her go sit wherever she wants. I should put a bit of distance between us to keep any rumors from starting up.
But she can’t say things like that and expect me to leave her alone.
“Come sit with me.”
Reese hesitates, her eyes discreetly bouncing to the people around us. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”
I start in that direction with her food, not giving her much of a choice other than to follow me.
“It’ll be fine, Reese. You’re going to sit on the bench next to me, not on my lap. I don’t think anyone is going to have something to say about us sitting at the same table.”
“Just keep it professional,” she mutters under her breath, walking at my side.
“What do you think I’m going to do while we’re eating dinner with my daughter and my pitching coach? Stick my tongue down your throat?”
She smacks me in the bicep with the back of her hand, and I catch the sly little grin on her lips.
“You’re thinking about me sticking my tongue down your throat right now, aren’t you?”
She gives me a single nod of her head. “Yep.”
