I nod. Even the table and chairs are a mismatched mess of charm.
“I love your house,” I tell him.
“Thank you. It’s been a lot of work.” He smiles and hands me a glass of iced tea.
I turn back to the kitchen, and I see a few pots simmering on the old gas range. An outdated radio hums with crackling country music from the windowsill, and there is no place in the world—no beach, nor coast— that could feel more like summer than right here at the top of this hill.
“How can I help?” I ask pulling myself from my daze and this feeling I am struggling to place.
“A beer would be the most helpful thing in the world if I'm being honest.”
I open a beer with the opener mounted on his wall and hand it to him.
“What are you making?” I ask leaning against the counter next to him.
“Spaghetti and meatballs. I know Winnie is allergic to fish, and she likes pizza, so I thought this would be safe.”
I pause and watch his side profile as he busies himself. “How do you know she’s allergic to fish?”
“You’ve mentioned it before on the phone,” he says and briefly looks over at me. There’s a shyness to him tonight. Nothing like the man who pulled me into him in the evening glow of my bedroom, whispering my name into my neck.
His eyes catch me, and I feel them, just for a second, slip down my body again before he clears his throat.
“What?” I ask, our most useless question that we keep returning to.
“You’re beautiful.” He shakes his head like he’s trying to straighten out his thoughts.
I sip my tea, and he forces his gaze back to the stove.
“Hey Han.” Rhett comes in and drops a kiss on the top of my head.
“Make yourself useful Rhett,” Tanner chides and nods toward the stack of plates. “Set the table.”
“No way,” I say. “I offered to help and I’m literally just standing here.”
“And you’re doing a great job of that.” He looks over at me, aplayful warning in his eye. “I like to keep good things the way they are.”
I shoo Rhett away and grab the plates. Once placed at the four spots, plus the spot with a stool for Winnie, I dig around for silverware in the drawers. I open a drawer with kitchen towels, one with tongs and random utensils, and another, obviously the junk drawer. It’s a mess of receipts, scissors, a screwdriver, loose change and a little stack of old photos.
“Dinner’s ready,” Tanner announces as he uses the rag to carry the pot to the center of the table. I open the last drawer and find the silverware.
Once we are all sitting, there is no ignoring the way Lauren is watching me. It’s like she is trying to read into my every movement. The way I am scooted closer to Tanner under the guise of making space for Winnie, the way our elbows brush and the bumping of our hands as we settle in. I’m sure she somehow knows our knees are touching under the table too.
“Let’s say grace.” Tanner puts his hand out to me and Winnie. Lauren and Rhett don’t skip a beat before joining hands around the circle.
“Heavenly Father, thank you for our meal, our friends, and our new friends. Amen.”
“Amen,” Winnie pipes in, her voice louder than our quiet ones.
“My mom would sure be impressed with your amen, Fred,” Tanner says.
Winnie beams with pride and quietly rejects Lauren’s offer to help her cut her pasta. “I'm a big girl now,” she tells her and Lauren looks up at me, looking possibly as heartbroken as if Winnie was her own.
Tanner pops up from his seat abruptly. He goes to the little closet pantry and pulls out a stack of napkins, and immediatelyhands one to Winnie who already has pasta sauce smeared across her face.
“No rush,” he tells her with a wink.
I am almost embarrassed at the way my heart flips at their little exchange. Ethan would have chastised me about Winnie’s face being a mess. Then gotten after her for eating like an animal.
