Never Been Kissed(53)

Hunter frowns then shakes his head.

Matty grabs my hand and drags me over to the table, even going so far as to pull out my chair. “Why thank you, kind sir!” I exclaim, clapping my hands like it’s the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me.

“I’m going to set the table for you, Sera, you watch, then tell me how I do.” Matty stomps over to his Dad, holding both arms out while Hunter places a plate in his hand. The little guy clutches it to his chest tight, crossing his arms over it, stopping the plate from potentially slipping out of his grasp. He doesn’t walk back to the table, but glides like the wooden floor is made of ice.

I can’t stop grinning, even when he puts it on the table, sans placemats and instructs me so politely to get the napkins ready and forks and knives. I lean over the counter, hand outstretched for Hunter to give me the cutlery. Instead, he grabs my hand and puts a swift kiss in the center of my palm.

Pretty sure my eyes are huge. “Uh...what did you do that for?”

Hunter’s eyes are soft, that warm navy like an ocean full of dark and mysterious secrets. He lets go of my hand, thumb rubbing across my knuckles once it’s right side up. “I invited you for dinner, not to set my table. Matty can do it. Have a seat.”

I nod, struck dumb at receiving his kisses. Friends definitely don’t do that.

I walk back to the table on numb legs and mutter a distracted ‘thank you’ when Matty pulls out my chair for me again. I scoot closer to the table and watch him run around, trying to get everything set.

When the pizza has been buzzed in, and Hunter has paid, we settle at the table, listening to Matty chatter about what happened at daycare that day.

“We made play-doh, but it didn’t come from the yellow jar!” His eyes light up, and he keeps looking at me like I should be amazed.

I frown, tapping my lips with my finger. “Then, where did it come from, little man?”

“I made it!” He jerks his thumb, practically stabbing himself in the chest with it, he’s so bloody proud.“Yeah! I made it. Out of flour and some other stuff, and I painted it blue with red swirls. Then it turned purple!”

“Sounds like fun,” I say, chewing on my slice of Hawaiian pizza, which now that I’ve discovered it, is absolutely delicious!

Two little hands come up, palms out, and I feel like I’m looking at Katie, the gesture is the exact same. “It was.” His hands fan out, and the palms are facing up at me again, like he really wants me to believe him. “It was.”

To be chest level with the table like me and Hunt, Matty’s sitting on his haunches, taking small bites out of his crust first. “And you, Daddy? What did you do?”

Hunter clears his throat, takes a fraction of a second too long to wipe his mouth of nonexistent tomato sauce.

“Nothing special, buddy.” Hunt’s shoulders are hunched over his plate, eyes glued to the pizza like it’s more interesting than a Playboy. His eyebrows are drawn down and he won’t look at me.

“What do you do today, Hunt?”

He looks up at me, rolling around a piece of pizza in his mouth, licking his lips. Even though he looks calm, a hand is fisted around his napkin, and he’s clutching his plate so tight, the thing might break apart. I feel like I’ve asked a bad, bad question.

“Construction. I work in construction.”

Oh, man. A picture flashes in my mind – Hunter, shirtless. Sweat gleaming on his skin under the hot June sun, wielding a hammer (like Thor!), or Christ, chopping wood. I have to try three times to swallow the piece of pizza in my mouth. My legs are shaky and the image is so real, I can smell him, taste the sweat off his skin.

Ack! There’s a kid here!

“Cool,” I manage, taking a hasty slurp of my water. Emergency cool-down commencing!

“Sera? Can you read to me again tonight?” Matty asks, eyes hopeful. How am I supposed to say no?

“Sure, kid. Peter Pan again, or something else?” I look at Hunter, hoping it’s okay for me to be staying over that long. I get a stiff nod. Okay, then.

“I...” Matty blows out a breath, putting his slice of pizza down on his plate. Fierce concentration transforms his innocent little boy face to an older kid’s, one who’s already in school and learning the hard truths of the world.

“I don’t want the story to end just yet. Can you read me something else?”

Holy shit, here it comes. “Ever heard of a boy named Harry Potter?”

Matty shakes his head, and my future spreads out ahead of me. Tucking him in at night, placing a kiss on his forehead when I’m done reading to him and he’s fallen asleep. And to give him Harry Potter? To relive the adventure through his eyes? It’s like being told you can rewind time and read all your favourite books for the very first time all over again. I cannot wait.