I yanked the pot off the burner and flipped the knobs to OFF. Between the sauce splattering everywhere and the noodles boiling over, the kitchen was a disaster.
“Of all nights…” I muttered, glancing at the clock.
Whit would be there any minute, and I hadn’t even had a chance to do anything with my hair or makeup. Not that spaghetti with sauce from a jar was all that special or anything close to what he was probably used to, but I hoped the invitation meant something.
“Mama!” Henry called. “I need help!”
I hurried to his bedroom where he’d been playing with Legos. “What’s up, baby?”
He sat in the middle of his floor, surrounded by loose Lego pieces. “I can’t get up!”
I gave him a look. “Seriously? That’s the emergency?”
“There’s no place to walk,” he said. “They hurt my feet when I step on them.”
I shook my head. “Just put away the pieces.”
“I tried, but David keeps dumping them again.”
I put my hands on my hips and said sternly, “Knock it off, David. Henry has to pick up his room. You’re welcome to help with that, but no more dumping Legos.” I turned back to Henry. “There. He should behave now. I’ll help you scoop.”
A few minutes later, we’d put all the bricks in the bucket when the doorbell rang. And the smoke alarm started blaring.
“The garlic bread!” I groaned, scrambling to my feet and rushing to the kitchen, where smoke seeped out of the oven. I turned it off and grabbed a dish towel to fan the alarm.
Whit appeared in the doorway. “Need some help?”
I grimaced as the alarm started beeping once more. “Yes, please!”
He reached up, popped the smoke alarm off the wall, and removed the battery. The ear-splitting beeping immediately stopped. “Remind me to put that back up before I leave.”
I blew a lock of hair out of my face. “Thanks. That was supposed to be garlic bread, but I’m guessing it’s charcoal now.”
He chuckled and pulled me into his arms. “Turns out I’m a fan of charcoal.”
“Well, lucky you! Because I have a confession.” I glanced behind me at the stove. “I really only ever cook the kind of stuff that Henry eats, so I might’ve misled you when I invited you over for ‘dinner’. I’m not sure it’ll be edible.”
He shrugged. “Not about the meal. I’m here for the company. Aside from the Sunday dinners at Pearlie and Junior’s, I usually eat alone. So, I will take your spaghetti and garlic bread charcoal briquets if it means I get to see you.”
I was smiling when he kissed me, but my grin faded as the kiss deepened. The sound of Henry’s feet pounding down the hallway brought an abrupt end to the moment.
Whit groaned softly and kept his back to the doorway as Henry barreled in. “How about I help you finish this up?”
I couldn’t help a little wicked grin, having a pretty good idea why he was keeping his back to Henry.
“I’ll help, too!” Henry announced.
I intercepted him before he reached the stove and lifted him up. “I’m sure Mr. Whit appreciates the offer, but I could really use your help with something else.”
Despite the sad excuse for dinner, Whit dutifully ate a full plate and scraped the burned parts off his garlic bread, winking at me across our little table as he took a bite. We spent the rest of the evening playing Candy Land, watching Henry’s favorite cartoon, and reading three bedtime stories before I finally called it.
“I think Mr. Whit needs a break,” I said, tucking Henry’s comforter around him. “It’s time for you to go to sleep.”
“But Mr. Whit is good at all the voices!” Henry protested.
Whit beamed as he tousled Henry’s curls and then offered his fist to bump. “We’ll read more stories next time. You gotta mind your mama.”
“Yes, sir,” Henry said, bottom lip jutting out.
