“Thank you,” she murmurs into my chest.
“This is nothing,” I tell her.
“You’re going to spoil us,” she says.
“Now you’re on to my plan,” I say with a chuckle.
She tips her head up and smiles at me. “I’m going to tell the boys Mister EJ gave them this basket.”
“If you want to,” I say.
“I do.”
I take off and head back to the station, a won’t-quit smile on my face the rest of the day. At night, a little before Angie usually calls, my phone rings. It’s her.
I answer. “Hi!”
And before I can say another word, two voices shout, “Thank you, Mister EJ!”
“Ohhh! Hey, boys. I’m glad you liked it.”
“We played with the squirty fire hydrants, as long as you don’t squirt Mommy, you can do that,” Levi says.
“Good plan,” I say.
“And we dried off with the fireman towels. I want to sleep in mine but Mommy said it’s just a towel.”
“Your mom is always right.”
“She not always right,” Levi says.
“Yeah she is,” Jack argues.
“Okay, boys,” Angie says in the background. “Say goodnight to Mister EJ.”
They say, “Goodnight Mister EJ!” in unison and then Angie’s on the phone.
“The basket was a hit, as you can tell.”
“Glad to hear it. Sounds like I might need to purchase two pairs of firefighter pajamas too.”
“Don’t you dare,” she says, but I can’t tell if she means it or not.
“I’ll wait a few weeks.”
“EJ,” she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice.
“Angie.”
She sighs softly. “I’d better get these two into bed.”
“Sounds good. I’ll talk to you in a bit.”
“Yes. That. For sure.”
She doesn’t say it, for the boys’ sake.
We hang up and about a half hour later, she calls. We talk for over an hour, until she starts yawning. Then I tell her I need to go.
