Promising Angela by Kim Vogel Sawyer

But you only bring Kent takeout.” She nudged Kent’s shoulder. “Is that because you’re afraid he’ll try to poison you?”
    Kent’s raucous laughter filled the room.
    Uncertain how much longer his rubbery legs would hold him up, Ben moved to the sofa and leaned against the back. Angela … and Kent … chatting. Teasing. At ease. He’d been so afraid of letting her meet his cousin, yet it appeared they were very comfortable with one another. The wonder of the moment was more than Ben could comprehend.
    She pointed to the cartons in his hands. “At least it looks like you brought something good.”
    “Chinese,” Ben contributed, then felt like an idiot. Of course it’s Chinese. What else would go into these little white boxes with the red squiggle on the side?
    Angela’s smile swung in Kent’s direction. “What’s your favorite Chinese food?”
    “Beef … and broc … broc …” Kent made a horrible face then spat, “Broc’li!”
    Angela laughed softly and gave Kent’s arm a pat. “Wonderful choice. You get your protein and your vegetable that way.”
    Kent beamed while Ben stared in amazement. Angela—teasing with Kent. He hadn’t realized how much she had changed in her brief weeks at New Beginnings.
    “Well.” Angela stepped around the sofa. “I’ll go and let you two eat. I’ll see you later, okay, Kent?”
    Kent nodded his shaggy head, his eyes glowing. “I … see you later … An–ge–la.”
    “Bye, Ben.” And she slipped out the door.
    Ben stared after her, the cartons in his hands nearly forgotten.
    “Ben.”
    Ben shook his head, trying to pull his scattered thoughts together. Angela was visiting with Kent like she’d visit with … anybody. He wished she’d stuck around a little longer and visited with him.
    “Ben!”
    The sharp note of frustration in his cousin’s voice finally caught Ben’s full attention. He turned to Kent. “Yeah?”
    Kent pointed at the cartons. “I am … hun–gry.”
    “Yeah. Okay.” Ben straightened and adjusted his hands for a better grip. Walking alongside Kent’s wheelchair as they headed for the elevators, he said, “How long have you known Angela?”
    Kent’s shoulders raised in a brief shrug.
    “But she’s your friend, huh?”
    Kent’s smile turned knowing. “An–ge–la … is pretty.”
    Ben swallowed. “Yeah …”
    “She is my … girl–friend.”
    Ben felt as though a rock fell from his chest to his stomach. Apparently Angela had been too at ease with Kent. Remembering times when he’d witnessed her flirtatious behavior, he wondered if she’d exercised some of that with Kent. If so, Kent wouldn’t understand Angela was only playing.
    He had a big problem on his hands, and it wasn’t juggling Chinese food cartons.

seven
    Ben awakened early Saturday with a headache. He knew he wasn’t sick—unless it was sick with worry. Pictures of Angela with Kent had tormented his dreams, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to rest until he’d settled the issue of Kent referring to Angela as his girlfriend.
    He threw back his sheets and headed for the kitchen, planning his morning. She was staying at Elmwood Towers with her aunt. After breakfast he’d drive over and talk to her, make her understand she had to be careful where Kent was concerned. Sure, he wanted her to be relaxed and open around those with handicaps, but flirting with them was a completely different thing. The clients had to learn boundaries for behavior. Apparently Angela needed the same lesson.
    He ate his scrambled eggs and toast as slowly as possible and extended his shower. No sense in arriving at the Cassidy apartment too early. Angela probably slept in on Saturday mornings. After the shower, he read the newspaper and even watched a few cartoons before deciding it was late enough to go.
    Dressed in a pair of khaki shorts and a solid blue polo shirt—a step up from his normal summer’s day-off attire of athletic shorts and T-shirt—he drove across town. He