The food came. Olei happily slurped his creamy mushroom soup, getting some on his mouth. Silas reached for a napkin to wipe it, but Olei dodged.
"Daddy, I can do it myself." He looked a little embarrassed. "I'm big now. I'm in first grade. Not a baby."
He glanced at me, like he didn't want to make a bad impression.
Silas's hand froze mid-air. For a second, I saw shock and helplessness flicker in his eyes.
"Sorry, Olei." He lowered the napkin, pausing. "These past few years, raising you alone... I haven't really understood what you need."
He dropped his gaze, looking so lost it caught me off guard.
He'd raised Olei alone these past few years? What about Vanessa? She was Olei's mother on paper—wouldn't she help?
The questions almost burst out, but I swallowed them.
I didn't want to pry into his family business. Didn't want to show I cared about his life. I only cared if Olei was okay. That was it.
I looked away and focused on my plate.
Then I felt something brush my leg under the table. Warm. Solid.
I went rigid. Silas's knee.
Instinctively, I looked up. He was peeling shrimp for Olei, totally focused. Sensing my stare, he glanced over.
"What?"
"Nothing." I shook my head.
Probably an accident. The booth was tight, his legs were long—bound to bump into me.
I went back to eating.
Then his knee slowly dragged along the outside of my calf, a teasing, deliberate stroke.
A current shot straight to my scalp.
"Anthea?" He'd stopped peeling shrimp, staring at me now. "You're blushing."
"...I ate too fast. I'm hot." I grabbed my water and chugged.
The icy liquid slid down, cooling me slightly. I tried to pull my leg back, but his legs trapped mine. Couldn't move.
Now he wasn't calm anymore. His eyes churned with that familiar, dangerous storm.
This time, it was definitely on purpose.
I glared at him and kicked under the table. He raised an eyebrow, reached down, and caught my ankle. The touch burned. His thumb rubbed slow circles on the sensitive skin inside my ankle. Once. Twice.
"Let go," I mouthed silently.
We were in public. Olei was right there.
He looked at me and mouthed back, "Never."
The restaurant's cheerful kids' song played on. Olei happily munched his peeled shrimp.
And under the tablecloth, Silas and I were locked in a silent war.
