Everett had brought over, he’d start asking questions.
“I bought a bottle of zinfandel at the store.” He winked at her.
“In that case, I’d love a glass.”
She sipped wine while she watched them make box macaroni and cheese.
“Sometimes Mom makes macaroni a la fantastic.”
“What’s that?”
“You have to cut up the hot dogs and stir them in.”
“Sounds perfect. Let’s do it.” Everett sliced open a package of hot dogs and performed the task while Ryder gave directions. “We have to scoop Mom a bowl before we add the meat.”
“There you go.”
“Hey, I like your watch.”
“Thanks.”
“You smell good too.”
“I wish I could take credit, but that smell is all Hugo Boss.”
“I wear deodorant to keep me from stinking.”
“That’s good thinking.”
“Do you have to shave your face?”
“I do.”
“With a razor?”
“Yep.”
“I think I should start shaving.”
Everett leaned in to inspect Ryder’s smooth skin. “Hmm, maybe give it another year, kiddo.” He tapped Ryder’s nose with his fingertip.
As Fiona watched her son with Everett she was reminded again that there were some conversations better left man-to-man. She wondered how she would go about teaching Ryder to shave and groom his hair. Maybe a barber could help establish a grooming routine.
They sat at the table and Fiona watched her son struggle to eat with his left hand. When he spilled his milk he started to get upset.
“It’s okay, Ryder,” Fiona said, but he still wiped at his eyes.
Everett cleared his throat. “You know the old saying … you can’t cry because you spilled your milk. It’s bad luck. No harm done, and the cat appears very happy.”
Fiona ducked to look under the table where Mr. Whiskers was licking the floor beneath the dripping milk. “He doesn’t ever come out of Ryder’s room.”
“Must have sensed you needed him.” Everett held the cup in the air. “How about a refill?”
“Okay,” Ryder replied, stuffily.
While Everett went for the milk, Fiona wiped the table.
“We got rocky road ice cream for dessert.” Ryder smiled as he recalled the purchase.
“Mmm, that’s your favorite.”
After dinner they moved to the living room. Fiona had thought it was past time for Everett to be leaving, but Ryder’s pleading eyes had them both acquiescing and now Fiona watched from the couch, sucking on chocolate as Ryder challenged Everett in a game of interactive movie trivia. They sat on the floor in front of the television, Everett operating the remote. She thought it looked a little funny to have him sitting on the floor in his fancy clothes. He’d removed his Italian shoes, looking quite at home on Fiona’s living room floor.
Everett proved a worthy opponent, but Ryder still won. Although the margin had been close and it left Fiona wondering if he’d let Ryder win. Settled into his large floor pillow, watching late-night stand up comedy, Fiona knew Ryder would be asleep within minutes.
Everett stood.
“When can I see your house?” Ryder asked.
“Tell you what … I’ll talk with your mom about it, okay?”
Ryder nodded, “Will you be here when I wake up?”
Everett’s brow furrowed, “I don’t think—”
“On Sunday mornings Mom makes chocolate chip pancakes. You don’t want to miss it. Please stay.” Ryder’s eyes closed.
Everett stared at Ryder for a few moments and then transferred his gaze to Fiona. She didn’t know what to do. “Ryder, It’s getting late. Everett has to go home to his own family.”
Without opening his eyes or moving from his spot on the pillow he said, “Just stay one night and have the pancakes. Please, it would make me feel better.”
Oh God, her son was begging. She felt guilty for the absence of a male in his life.
What if Everett didn’t want to stay
? He could leave and Fiona would take Ryder to her bed for the night. Everett took the cushion beside Fiona on the couch.
“Is it okay if I stay, Fiona?”
“Yeah,
“I bought a bottle of zinfandel at the store.” He winked at her.
“In that case, I’d love a glass.”
She sipped wine while she watched them make box macaroni and cheese.
“Sometimes Mom makes macaroni a la fantastic.”
“What’s that?”
“You have to cut up the hot dogs and stir them in.”
“Sounds perfect. Let’s do it.” Everett sliced open a package of hot dogs and performed the task while Ryder gave directions. “We have to scoop Mom a bowl before we add the meat.”
“There you go.”
“Hey, I like your watch.”
“Thanks.”
“You smell good too.”
“I wish I could take credit, but that smell is all Hugo Boss.”
“I wear deodorant to keep me from stinking.”
“That’s good thinking.”
“Do you have to shave your face?”
“I do.”
“With a razor?”
“Yep.”
“I think I should start shaving.”
Everett leaned in to inspect Ryder’s smooth skin. “Hmm, maybe give it another year, kiddo.” He tapped Ryder’s nose with his fingertip.
As Fiona watched her son with Everett she was reminded again that there were some conversations better left man-to-man. She wondered how she would go about teaching Ryder to shave and groom his hair. Maybe a barber could help establish a grooming routine.
They sat at the table and Fiona watched her son struggle to eat with his left hand. When he spilled his milk he started to get upset.
“It’s okay, Ryder,” Fiona said, but he still wiped at his eyes.
Everett cleared his throat. “You know the old saying … you can’t cry because you spilled your milk. It’s bad luck. No harm done, and the cat appears very happy.”
Fiona ducked to look under the table where Mr. Whiskers was licking the floor beneath the dripping milk. “He doesn’t ever come out of Ryder’s room.”
“Must have sensed you needed him.” Everett held the cup in the air. “How about a refill?”
“Okay,” Ryder replied, stuffily.
While Everett went for the milk, Fiona wiped the table.
“We got rocky road ice cream for dessert.” Ryder smiled as he recalled the purchase.
“Mmm, that’s your favorite.”
After dinner they moved to the living room. Fiona had thought it was past time for Everett to be leaving, but Ryder’s pleading eyes had them both acquiescing and now Fiona watched from the couch, sucking on chocolate as Ryder challenged Everett in a game of interactive movie trivia. They sat on the floor in front of the television, Everett operating the remote. She thought it looked a little funny to have him sitting on the floor in his fancy clothes. He’d removed his Italian shoes, looking quite at home on Fiona’s living room floor.
Everett proved a worthy opponent, but Ryder still won. Although the margin had been close and it left Fiona wondering if he’d let Ryder win. Settled into his large floor pillow, watching late-night stand up comedy, Fiona knew Ryder would be asleep within minutes.
Everett stood.
“When can I see your house?” Ryder asked.
“Tell you what … I’ll talk with your mom about it, okay?”
Ryder nodded, “Will you be here when I wake up?”
Everett’s brow furrowed, “I don’t think—”
“On Sunday mornings Mom makes chocolate chip pancakes. You don’t want to miss it. Please stay.” Ryder’s eyes closed.
Everett stared at Ryder for a few moments and then transferred his gaze to Fiona. She didn’t know what to do. “Ryder, It’s getting late. Everett has to go home to his own family.”
Without opening his eyes or moving from his spot on the pillow he said, “Just stay one night and have the pancakes. Please, it would make me feel better.”
Oh God, her son was begging. She felt guilty for the absence of a male in his life.
What if Everett didn’t want to stay
? He could leave and Fiona would take Ryder to her bed for the night. Everett took the cushion beside Fiona on the couch.
“Is it okay if I stay, Fiona?”
“Yeah,
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