Surprisingly, Jason squeezes me to him to keep me rooted in place.
I don't fight it.
"Can I start with your drink orders? While I am gathering your beverages, it will give you time to look over the menu." He tells us.
"Can I have chocolate milk?" Caleb whispers to Barrett, who nods.Interesting. Why would he need permission from his husband? "I'll have chocolate milk, please," he tells the waiter with certainty.
"Iced tea. Unsweet," Barrett adds.
Chocolate milk sounds good. Mom would make it for me, and I haven't had it in years. Since it's been a nostalgic day, I think I'll join Caleb. "Chocolate milk for me, too, please."
Jason grins at me before ordering a soda, claiming he needs the caffeine to help him get through his afternoon errands.
The waiter excuses himself with a practiced smile.
"Well, let's figure out what we want to eat before he comes back, and then we can dive into conversation," Barrett says in a take-charge tone.
"Agree," Jason says, handing me a menu.
My eyes flit across the menu, a jumble of unfamiliar letters and confusing layouts. My dyslexia, usually managed if I practice reading, which I haven't been doing, feels like a cruel spotlight. Making me feel more exposed than I already do.
Shame gnaws at me. I can't even articulate what I want to eat.
My eyes start to sting, but I refuse to cry. I try to focus, to force my brain to process the text, but the letters swim across thepage. Jason shifts slightly, and I instinctively tense, bracing for him to notice my struggle.
Would he see this as another sign of my fragility? The sudden clatter of dishes breaks me from my thoughts.
Then, a low voice cuts through my panic. "Having trouble deciding?" Jason asks, his tone devoid of judgment, only a quiet understanding.
"Yeah." It's all I can get out. Emotion so thick I can barely swallow.
He reaches out, not to take the menu, but to point to a section. "The shepherd's pie is surprisingly good here," he murmurs, his finger tracing the words. "Or the pasta's usually a safe bet."
He isn't taking over, not really. He's just offering a lifeline. The warmth in his voice has me relaxing into something that feels like hope.
He's still here.
He hasn't bolted.
"I think I want mac n' cheese with fries," Caleb announces to the table.
"Peanut, you need a fruit or veggie to go with it," Barrett tells him, and Caleb scrunches his nose.
"Fine. I'll have trees with ranch dip." He relents.
"Trees?" I ask.
"That's what he calls broccoli. He isn't a fan of veggies usually, but I got him to eat broccoli as long as there's ranch to dip it in." Barrett gives a warm chuckle. "He puts so much on them that he can't taste the tree."
Caleb giggles.
Jason leans over so close I can feel his breath on the side of my face. "Would you want the same?" he whispers.
I turn to face him. Our lips are mere inches apart. I grin and give a little shrug. Do I want the same meal as Caleb? After theemotional morning I had, it would be nice to slip into little space for a while, but I definitely can't do that here. Maybe having a kid-friendly meal will help.
A breath I didn't realize I was holding escapes my lips. Yes. A thousand times, yes. The words are a silent scream within me, a desperate plea. Jason didn't just offer me food suggestions; he provided an escape hatch. He'd seen the fog in my eyes, the faint panic that flickered there, and he'd navigated it for me with gentle guidance.A whispered recommendation.
It was such a small thing, really.
