I shrugged. “You didn’t think of yourself when you brought this food.”
“Funny. I told them not to pass on the dry-ass almond cookies.”
“Touché.”
Minutes later, I returned with sodas, and he’d made a pallet on the wooden floor.
My eyes locked onto his attire. Some semblance of a three-piece suit. If he were wearing golfing pants, I’d have figured he’d hit the greens today. But…He’d gone to work.Anger flashed in my eyes. “You helped those kids!” I blurted.Okay, Mad. Too much. Even for you.
“Maddy,” he scoffed. “It’s my job. And don’t forget, you baked them cookies once upon a time.”
Once upon a time… meant before Elijah passed.Ikept him alive in my heart. Not sure about Washington. He never even took a brief sabbatical. While our baby fought to survive, cue hisreplacementchildren at the courthouse.
Uncomfortable silence swallowed us whole. I kept telling myself that I’d once loved his dedication to at-risk youth, but this was another reason I divorced him.
Misery loves company?Bull crap. Misery wanted to sit her ass in the corner,alone, with a threadbare blanket, and rock back and forth while recalling the pain of twenty-three hours ofchildbirth. Maybe even suck her thumb like she did when she was ten.
Washington handed me a takeout box. The aroma smacked me, sweet and spicy. Some therapy in soy sauce form.
As he offered chopsticks like I wasn’t about to attack him for it, he cleared his throat. “Cakes, too, Maddy. You also made cakes. And remember when a foster youth’s court hearing was on their birthday? You had that one girl bursting into tears, without a mean mug though. She was happy.” He seemed to want to say that I was too.
Throat thick, I murmured, “Okay, Judge Lo Mein, we’re having this conversation, huh?” I impaled my stick in the orange chicken, as if I lacked the skill to grab it correctly. Washington was messing with my desire to be bitter and alone. “Red Velvet Velma had never gotten a cake. When I told her the flavor, she repeated it, mouth puckered like she’d drunk pickle juice. Nope. Like I’d said I’d ground up unicorn bones. Then she fell in love with my upgraded box cake.”
“Yep, classy choice. Shame she never had it before then.”
“Seriously!” After unintentionally flicking orange sauce at him, I acted as though it was all part of the plan.
Washington shook his head and then dug through the bag for napkins. He gave me one, and his hand brushed mine. A tiny contact. But the spark caused enough electricity to run Vegas.
I shifted in my seat to ignore the electric current that coursed through me from his touch. “Let’s find her parents, Wash. Make them bake an apology cake. A tier for every year they were absent from her life. If the layers come out lopsided, we’ll …”Okay, insert something heinous here, Maddy.
“I’m loving the look in your eyes.” He chuckled, sipping his cola. “Menacing. I’m good with whatever you say next.”
On instinct, my hand pushed his chest. The solid fortress burned my palm like lava, and a wave of memories hit me.Us.My manicured fingers clawing into his smooth, hard chest. So many positions. But I played it off. “Mm-hmm, that’s not the type of reform you care about. And I had better stop with the name-calling, JudgeBabineaux,before your momma brings the holy oil over.” My cellphone rang on the dresser, and I popped up, annoyed that Red Velvet Velma encouraged me to care for other children.I’ll never abandon you, Elijah.
Mr. Snitch texted me again. I swiped the notification up, keeping Omari on read, while settling back onto the floor.
“Who’s that?”
“Don’t worry about it.” I picked up my container and steered the conversation toward why this man had usurped my evening. “You know, when Montana and Zuri fake dated, your brother gave her $50k on each occasion. We should discuss compensation for our dates.”
“One, he plays for the Dodgers, Maddy, and she had that crazy baby daddy. Montana didn’t want Zuri to disappear out of fear.”
See! I need aYousituationship.Or that old Sanaa Lathan movie. Lord, how did that slip my mind? Black women needed way more screen time. Especially as the primary obsession. Morris Chestnut and Michael Ealy chased her down inThe Perfect Guylike the last Thanksgiving slice of sweet potato pie. The unhinged one only needed to dial his fatal-attraction energy from a ten to a solid six. Seven, maybe.
“Did you hear me?” Washington cut into my fantasy flick.
I blinked away the very vivid, very shirtless mental slideshow. “Hmm?”
“I said, and two, we aren’t fake dating.” Washington slowly rubbed a palm over his bald head. He knew exactly what that did to me. His deep-set eyes locked onto mine, dark pools of water.
Oh, yesss …
“Madison, are you still seeing your therapist?”
Um, what?“Excuse me, Lifetime Ex-Husband, are you worried I’ve missed my meds?”
“Shonda gave you meds?”
