Once I’ve checked that he’s settled on the back porch with his popsicle, I return to the kitchen to start filling the freezer before anything can melt. As I do so, Joel carries the groceries into the kitchen.
“That’s the last of it,” Joel says, setting one last bag down on the dining table.
“Thanks.” I point my finger at him when he moves to unpack a bag. “Don’t you dare, Joel Shaw. You brought them in; the least I can do is unpack.”
His cheeks dimple, and he lifts both hands in surrender. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Joel leaning against the counter beside the refrigerator, his arms crossed and his bulging biceps causing me a world of distraction as I put away the freezer foods.
“How do you do it?” he asks.
I shove a bag of peas into the freezer and shut the door. “Do what?”
“Stay so positive with Ben. No matter how exhausted you look, you’re still so damn patient and sweet with him.”
Blushing at his compliment, I move on to another bag. “I promise you I don’t know what I’m doing nine times out of ten. I have pretty great parents who taught me a lot, and teaching ten-year-olds will challenge anyone to be more patient.”
Over breakfast and dinner, we’ve shared more about ourselves, including my past as a teacher. I left teaching after Simon got a big promotion, and I stayed home with Ben.
“Will you ever go back to teaching?” he asks.
I shrug. I planned to go back to work when Ben needed me less, but that never happened. “Maybe one day. I don’t know yet. I do miss it.”
Outside, I hear Ben talking. Those little conversations he has with himself reassure me that he is where he said he would be, and isn’t getting into mischief while I don’t have an eye on him.
Joel wanders over to the window and peers out. “He’s talking to himself.”
I smile. “He started doing it when he was three, just talking about the toys he was going to play with next. He doesn’t do it as much anymore. Does Harry?”
Joel flashes me a grin. “Not as much as he used to, at least not when I go to visit. I think I’m too distracting.”
I laugh. “Probably. What was your mom like?” I ask, curious about the woman who raised two men with a need to help others so ingrained into them that both became firefighters.
He snorts. “Under siege from morning to night. Noah and I foughtconstantly.”
I can’t help but laugh. “When did you stop?”
I was an only child. While I’d have loved to have a brother or sister to play with, I figured life would be fun with a sibling, not filled with endless fights.
“Never. They went on a month-long cruise after we’d both moved out," he says with a smile. "I think they’d been dreaming about it for years.”
I clap my hand over my mouth to contain my laughter.
He flashes me a quick grin before looking out the window again.
It’s quiet. Ben is no longer talking to himself. But I know Ben. He’ll be in here wanting to play with Joel the second he’s finished his popsicle or the dreaded boredom sets in.
“What’s he doing?” I ask.
“Cartwheels.” He turns back to face me, proud. “He’s a lot better.”
“His popsicle?” He couldn’t have finished it that fast.
“A melting green pool on the porch step.”
I shake my head, unsurprised at the fate of his popsicle. “Of course it is. I’ll clean up the mess once I’ve finished in here.” Reaching for another bag on the dining table, I continue putting groceries away. “I’ve been thinking about signing him up for gymnastics. It’s not like him to be this determined.”
I struggle to believe how much I’m loving the ordinariness of this moment. Talking with Joel. Ben doing cartwheels on the soft grass outside on a bright, sunny day. Unpacking groceries as I learn more about Joel. It all feels like yet another piece of the puzzle clicking into place.
