Part of a family, even for this brief time.
6
REENA
I let out a sigh, as I rinse the dinner plates clean. Porter's big hand reaches out and takes each one from me, sliding them meticulously into the lower rack of the dish washer. His method of loading it is more exact than mine. There's a rigid order to it that leaves no question that each plate, each dish, each piece of silverware will come out sparkling clean.
"How did you know the tarts are my favorite?" I whisper the words to him, even though I suspect my uncle isn't close enough to hear our conversation. We'd set him up in his chair in the living room, where he could indulge in one of his favorite movies while he ate a second bowl of cobbler.
"It's not top-secret information, Reena," Porter says, giving me a quick glance before he refocuses on the dishwasher. "When I ordered the cobbler, I asked if they knew what your favorite dessert was. They told me, so I added some for you. Seemed like a thing I should know."
I feel a sharp pang of disappointment that he did it only to add credibility to the role he's playing. It shouldn't matter. I should just be grateful that he thought that far ahead. "Iappreciate you doing that. I think it helped make Cliff think this is for real."
He nods, not looking at me, and then there's silence between us. I'm surprised when he's the one who breaks it. "I got them for you because I wanted to."
It's a comment made so quietly that I almost think I didn't hear him correctly. "What?"
He looks slightly unsure as he meets my eyes. "I got them for you because I wanted to make you happy. You're dealing with a lot right now, and it felt right to get you something that might make you smile. Even for a little while."
"Thank you." I manage to get the words out, even though my throat is tight. "It did make me happy."
"Good."
7
PORTER
A crash from the living room interrupts the connection building between us and Reena is racing out of the kitchen before I can stop her.
"Uncle Cliff?" There's no mistaking the panic in her voice. "Are you okay."
I follow her out, determined to help however I can. Just like when we first met, I recognize something of myself in the older man, and hate to see him struggling.
"Bevvy?" Cliff is looking out the front window, his bowl of cobbler broken on the floor, a puddle of melted vanilla ice cream staining the hardwood. "I should get ready for work. I'm going to be late."
Reena doesn't correct him when he calls her by the wrong name. "You don't have to work tonight. I checked the schedule. You've got a night off."
Some of the tension leaves him, and he gives her an uncertain nod. "Oh. Okay, then. I must've forgot."
I kneel down and pick up the pieces of the broken dish, taking it back into the kitchen and throwing it away, then graba towel, running it under the faucet to wipe up the spilled ice cream.
As I clean the floor, I can hear Reena's steady voice as she talks her uncle into getting ready for bed. By the time she comes back out, the kitchen is wiped down, the dishwasher is running, and the sticky remains of cobbler and ice cream are gone.
"Oh wow." She looks around, surprise washing over her. "You didn't have to do all this."
"I know."
She hesitates, looking over her shoulder at the door to her uncle's bedroom. "Thank you."
Before I can stop her, she's crossed the room and thrown her arms around me, hugging me hard. A lump forms in my throat at her gratitude, and it feels good to hug her back. Her body matches up perfectly against mine. It feels real, even if only for this brief moment of time.
"Am I interrupting something?" Cliff's voice from the doorway has us stepping apart.
"No. Not at all." Reena shakes her head, but there's a pink tinge to her cheeks that has me thinking I wasn't the only one feeling something.
"You gonna kiss each other or not?" He chuckles and now I might be the one blushing as I look down at her pretty mouth.
I reach for her, slow and careful, sliding a loose strand of hair back behind her ear. Her chin tilts up, rising to the challenge, and letting me guide this. I brush my lips over hers, a teasing pressure, and she gives a quiet gasp at the spark that ignites from that simple contact. The scent of her surrounds me as I pull back only a fraction, searching her eyes for any hesitation. She watches me back and her hands glide up the muscles of my chest. I brace myself for her to push me away, but instead, she leans in, like she's using my frame for support. I take it for what it appears to be.
