Page 39 of Risking it All

“Lemon garlic chicken, sautéed vegetables, and buttered rice. I wanted to keep it simple.”

“It smells really good.”

“Hopefully, it is.”

“What do you mean hopefully? I’m hungry,” she joked.

“Nobody told you to go all day without eating.”

“Shut up,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Ugh! You make me feel so small when I’m next to you. How tall are you?”

“You should. I’m probably a whole foot taller than you. I’m six-five.”

“Not quite but close. I’m five-six.”

“A midget.”

She slapped my bicep as she laughed. “I’ll have you know that I’m of average height for a woman.”

“So you say. You’re tiny to me.”

“There is nothing tiny about me.”

“And I love it.”

When I was done cooking, we ate in front of the TV where I tried to follow one of her soapy shows. It was something about a love triangle and a drug empire in a small town. It was probably pretty good, but I was more interested in the woman sitting next to me. Z curled her legs under her and balanced the bowl of movie theater popcorn in her lap as I grabbed handfuls at a time and stuffed them in my mouth.

“You’re not paying attention to the show. That’s why you’re asking so many questions.”

“There’s too many characters on here. I can’t keep up with it.”

“You’re too busy eating popcorn and looking at that phone.”

“You feel neglected, mama?” I asked, leaning forward to put my phone on the table.

“A little,” she said, forcing a pout as she tried to bite back a smile.

“I’m sorry.” I pulled her until she was in my lap and kissed her cheek. “I was just thinking.”

“Thinking about what?”

“How I can’t wait to be able to take you away for a while.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“Good, I got you something.”

“Sawyer, you already made dinner.”

“This is different. I remember you saying something about reading, so I got you some books,” I told her, reaching over into the bag on the floor next to the couch and pulling out the paper shopping bag. I placed the bag in her lap and watched as she pulled out three books. She read each title before looking back at me.

“I usually read fiction. I don’t remember the last time I read a self-help book. My mom made us read a couple growing up.”

“I think they’ll be good for you.”

“I prefer escaping from reality into a good storyline. It’s easier.”

“I get that. I think these will be good for you, though.”