Sweet Nothing(65)
Of all the things I expected to feel tonight, sad wasn’t anywhere near the top of the list. But seeing Luke and Lilah together reminds me of time I used to spend with my father. I miss feeling as safe as he used to make me feel. I miss knowing that he would take care of everything, that nothing could go wrong in my world as long as he was the center of it. I miss loving him unconditionally.
Luke lowers Lilah to the floor and gives her a playful swat on the rear. “Go wash your hands. Dinner’s almost ready.”
“But—”
“Now, please. The sooner you wash your hands, the sooner we eat. And the sooner we eat—”
“COOKIES!” Lilah yells.
Luke nods. “Now scoot.”
Lilah disappears into the bathroom.
“She’s great, Luke. Really sweet,” I say. And I mean it.
“Yeah. She’s definitely my favorite tiny human.” Luke smiles and pulls me into him. “She likes you. I can tell.” He holds the back of my head as he kisses me. Softly at first, then more urgently.
After a few seconds, I pull away. “How?”
“How what?”
“How can you tell? Sure, I know she’s your kid and everything, but maybe she secretly hates me and you have no idea.”
“Well, for one thing, she told me that the code word if she hated you was
rhinoceros. And since she hasn’t screamed rhinoceros yet, I think you’re okay in her book.”
“Oh.”
Luke shakes his head and pulls me in for another kiss. “I’ve wanted to do that since you got here.”
I nuzzle his neck. “Is it weird that your stern dad voice turns me on?”
“There’s more where that came from, young lady,” he jokes. “Be a good girl, or you might get spanked.” His hands slide over my ass.
My body hardens. “Promise?”
“Okay! All done.” The bathroom door bangs open, and Luke and I jump apart.
“I’d better wash my hands too.” I scurry past Lilah into the bathroom, trying to ignore the pulsing in various parts of my body. I close the door and lock it, then lean over the sink and peer into the mirror. My cheeks are a deep pink, and my hair is mussed where Luke grabbed me. I comb it with my fingers and dab a little water on the back of my neck. Then I wash my hands with lemon-scented soap from the chocolate-smudged dispenser. Luke and Lilah are already seated when I emerge.
“Smells great. What are we having?”
“Macaroni and hot dogs,” Lilah announces. “And cookies if you clean your plate.”
“She picked out the menu,” Luke says apologetically.
I widen my eyes and blink at Lilah. “How’d you know macaroni and hot dogs are my favorites?”
Her jaw drops. “Are you kidding me?”
“Never.” I laugh and pour myself a glass of juice. “I would never, ever do that.”
“Dad! We have the same favorites!”
“I heard, Lilah Bear. That’s awesome. Now take a bite for me, okay?”
I raise my fork, and Lilah follows my lead, spearing macaroni and hotdog with dramatic flair.
“So, my friends have this game they like to play,” I tell her after we’ve all taken a few bites. “It’s called Guess what happened at work today?. We go around the table and tell something good that happened today. You want to play?”
“But I don’t go to work,” Lilah pouts. A chunk of bright orange “cheese” clings to her lower lip.
“You go to school, right? I take her napkin and dab it away. “So you could tell something that happened at school.”
“Okay.” She winds a cheesy finger around a section of strawberry blonde curls. “Ummmm, today at school, we made paintings and I splattered Jeremy P.’s with black paint to make it look like a Pommack—”
“Wait. Hold up.” Luke mimes a timeout. “You did what?’
“I splattered it with paint,” she says proudly. “Little bitty dots. To make it look like a Pommack.”
“A Pollack?” Luke says warily.
“That’s what I said. It was pretty beautiful, Dad. But then Jeremy P. cried and I had to sit in the reflecting corner.”
I raise my juice glass to my lips, pursing them together so tightly they hurt.
“Lilah. Honey. Love of my life. You can’t just go splattering other people’s art with black paint.” Luke rubs his temples. “If you want to splatter your painting, I’m all for it. But not Jeremy P.’s. Got it?”
“Got it. And then we had cheese crackers for snack.” Lilah finishes, then looks at me. “Go ahead.”
“Well, I’m pretty sure I can’t top that.” I take another bite of macaroni, which is slightly crunchy and tastes vaguely like cookie dough. “But yesterday at work, I got a lovely dinner invitation from a very nice family.”