“All of them?”
Zack nods eagerly. “I like to see all of things.”
“Well, as long as you let me turn back to my recipe for boiled new potatoes with dill, then we have a deal.”
“Dill, deal, dill, deal,” Zack sing-songs, and his feet kick against my chest. He’s wearing little blue socks with yellow trucks on them.
“You have given me a most adorable assistant.”
“I can help. He doesn’t know where most things are, or even what a lot of the equipment is called—not that I have fancy cooking equipment. Not that I’d expect you to make something fancy!” Madelyn babbles.
“In the ocean, we live by our wits. We survive by using our senses, hunting, and finding. We know how to find treasures. Zack looks like he’s got sharp eyes. All I need are the basics.” I give a winning smile—even though my insides are tyingthemselves in knots. I’ve been in houses before, been among humans off and on, but mostly off. I’ve never used a stove, but I’ve seen Janet use one.
“I feel so rude leaving you to cook and keep Zack busy while I work.” Madelyn is a blonde tornado of pots, pans, and oven mitts. “Do you need a corkscrew? A cutting board? A potato peeler?” Items appear as she names them, bending down to pull things from under cabinets, then reaching up to yank others from overhead cupboards.
Would it be wrong of me to start naming random kitchen equipment? After all, I’ve never cooked before, so how do I know what I need? With a great effort of will, I stop myself, admitting I’m only tempted to do so that I can keep watching her cute backside when she bends, and those curvy calves flex when she stretches, revealing the arch of her feet in her slip-on shoes.
Why are human feet so adorable on Zack, with his little truck socks, and so utterly bewitching on Madelyn, making her look so delicate?
“That should do it. Now, if Zack gets tired of helping, you can send him in to me. Or, outside to play, and I’ll move my laptop to the back steps.”
“I’m not tired!” Zack wraps his arms around my forehead. “I wanna stay with him.”
Oh, my heart. I glance down to make sure it isn’t actually leaking out of my chest since Zack just melted it. But when I look at Madelyn’s face, it freezes solid in my chest.
The soft lips that met mine in relief are now tense and set, and her whole face looks troubled.
“I want you to stay, too, Junior Kraken,” I say quickly, hoping that eases her mind.
It doesn’t seem to. “Oh. All right then. Well, you guys have fun. I’ll be at my desk in the living room.”
“I still like you best!” Zack calls.
“As it should be.” I peek around the doorway and see Madelyn’s smile as she opens her computer and sits at a desk that’s cluttered with toys, sippy cups, and water bottles. It’s not some calm little oasis, but in the busy-looking heart of the home, because she has to be mother and provider at the same time. She catches me looking and blows me a kiss. No. She blows Zack a kiss.
“I like you the best, too, Zack. Now, go make dinner with Mr. Mercer.”
“Mercer is fine,” I say quickly. “Although tonight, perhaps you should call me Chef. And you are Chef Junior.”
“I like Kraken Junior better.”
“This proves you have excellent taste,” I chuckle.
“Do I get to stay up the whole time?” Zack asks.
“Most of it, if you’d like.”
“Mommy can’t give me piggybacks for too long. She says I’m getting so big.”
“I have bigger shoulders. You stay up there and tell me if I’m doing things right.”
“I don’t know if they’re right,” Zack protests, his little voice sounding amused, as if he knows something I don’t.
“Well, that’s why we have a recipe book.”
I have an hour of time where my son is being happily entertained by a handsome man. A handsome man who is cooking for us, and who brought me flowers. I want to pretend this isn’t a one-time thing, that it can happen again and again. That this is how something good starts.
I should work.
