“We always do when I’m visiting,” Noah answered. His face clouded over as he remembered that this was now his full-time home.
Even though he’d lost his mother months ago, I knew that the reminders would continue to sneak up on him. And coming down from a very exciting vacation was going to amplify his feelings of being uprooted.
I jumped when I something slapped my foot, and Noah broke out into a hearty laugh.
“Ariel got you!”
I grinned as the kitten danced in front of me beneath the table, rearing up on her back paws and air boxing.
“How’s she doing?” I asked him. “She seems like she’s happy here.”
“She’s good.” Noah stuffed half of the waffle in his mouth.
I shot a glance at Logan, but he was on his phone.
“Hey, hey, careful. Maybe you should cut smaller pieces?” I asked Noah.
He nodded, opened his mouth, fished out the piece with his fingers, and dropped it on the plate in front of him.
“Noey,gross,” Logan chastised lightly. He placed the phone face down on the table. “We need to talk about manners.”
“Agreed,” I said.
“But I’m not good at cutting,” he whined.
Most likely, Noah’s mom had happily helped him cut up his food, and Logan had been too distracted to clock it when they were together.
“Oh, come on, you’re big. You can totally cut your own food,” I said. “Let me see you do it.”
Noah picked up his knife and held it like a caveman.
“There’s your first problem, kid,” Logan laughed as he eyed the knife. “Try this.”
And from that moment on, our breakfast turned into a silly lesson about proper utensil usage.
Noah laughed as Logan and I riffed off each other, pretending that pinkie placement could impact how aerodynamic your cuts were. I could tell he was loving the silliness.
He wasn’t the only one. There was such a warmth and ease to the meal, despite the fact that father and son were still finding their way around relating to one another. But the sunlight shining through the open doors and the cute kitten trying to jump up onthe table to join us made the moment feel like something out of a movie.
It was almosttooperfect.
I had to remind myself that this was a job, not a lifestyle. In a few months, I’d be back to my closet of an apartment, trying to forget about my time pretending to be Cinderella.
But for now? Cutlery lessons with a little boy who was coming out of his shell.
“It’s not hard,” Noah said with surprise in his voice as he sliced through a strawberry. “I can do it!”
“I knew you could,” Logan smiled proudly. “I guess you’ll be carving the Thanksgiving turkey for us this year, huh?”
Noah glanced at me, chewing with his mouth open. “Can we do the wishbone on Thanksgiving, Nina?”
The room went quiet except for the clanking of forks on plates. I swallowed the lump in my throat. Thanksgiving was months away, and he was assuming I’d still be around to take part in their family celebration. I needed to dodge the question, gently.
“Is that a tradition you like?” I asked.
“Yes, lots,” he nodded. “But last year I did it with Uncle Harry, and hecheated.”
Logan laughed at the reveal.
