Dev shrugs. “Well, it is uncomfortable, but that doesn’t mean nobody should be talking about it. I guess I just don’t bring it up because I don’t want to make him feel bad. I figured he’d want to move on from it.”
I nod. “Yeah, I get it.”
“Did he say something to you about that? About us not talking about it?”
I shrug, not wanting to get into the middle of their relationship and cause problems; I’m the newcomer here. But if I can help Lucky out, I’d like to do that. I decide to tread lightly and feel my way as I go. If Dev starts to sound mad or uncomfortable, I’ll change the subject. I’ll talk about pink fairy armadillos. That’ll take his mind off his coworker like nobody’s business. Personally, I find them fascinating, and they’re a favorite of my girls.
I continue, watching Dev as I speak to make sure I’m not making him uncomfortable. “He did mention that nobody seems to want to talk about it, but he writes that off as everybody feeling bad for him and not wanting him to dwell on it, like you said. It’s not like he’s mad at anybody over it.”
“Are you saying he wants to talk about his sister and what happened?”
“I am. I think he does, anyway. I think he’s still in mourning, and it might help him to remember her in a positive way. Like, to have people there to listen to him talk about her, about his memories of her. He blames himself, you know.”
“That much I do know. He’s always taken the blame for everything that happens in his family. Whether he should or not is immaterial. It’s just how he is.”
“There’s a big age difference between Lucky and his sister. Or there was.” I hate talking in the past tense after somebody’s died. It almost feels disrespectful to the life they had. It doesn’t make any difference that I never knew this particular person, either.
“Yeah, they have a split family. His father remarried and got together with somebody much younger, and they started a second family that included his sister. Lucky is close with all of them, but he was especially close with her. But, still, he had to work, you know? We all have to work.”
I reach over and put my hand on his. I know exactly what he’s thinking right now; he’s torturing himself over being a parent and a working man.
“It’s not easy, working and being responsible for family members at the same time. You always feel like you’re neglecting something.”
He hisses and shakes his head in disappointment, staring at our hands on the table, my tiny one in comparison to his huge one. “Tell me about it.”
“How’s Jacob?” I ask, forcing a change in the conversation. We need to turn this mess around or we’re both going to end up so depressed by the end of the dinner, we’ll never want to go out together again. And I really do like hanging out with Dev, so I don’t want that to happen.
“He’s awesome.” Dev is smiling, the sadness over Lucky and his situation pushed to the side for the moment. “He had a great time at your place with your kids. He thinks Sammy is hilarious.”
I roll my eyes. “Sammy is hilarious. The kid constantly has me in stitches. The problem is, it makes it hard to discipline him.”
Dev turns my hand over and touches my palm with his thumb. He does it so casually it should be no big deal, but it’s sending thrills up my arm and into my chest. Every tiny touch from him gives me a shock of pleasure now. Things feel different between us.
“He doesn’t seem to need much discipline,” Dev says. “He’s very polite, and he’s obviously worried about how other people feel. He’s compassionate. That’s a big deal for a kid his age. Most little boys are complete sociopaths.”
I laugh. “You say all that, but every once in a while I wonder about him. His favorite hobby is ripping the heads off his sisters’ dolls.”
“If Jacob had any sisters, I’ll bet he’d do the same thing.”
“Nooo, not Jacob. He’s too sweet.”
“Trust me. When he rolls his wheelchair down the sidewalk, he specifically steers it so he can run over ants. Tell me that’s not sociopathic behavior.”
“Okay, so he’s not going to win any Upstanding Citizen of the Year awards right now, but he’s barely five. Give him some time.”
We look into each other’s eyes, smiling at how silly we’re being. Two parents, complimenting each other’s kids . . . Does it get any cheesier than this? Probably not. Luckily, we’re interrupted from going too much further down that road by the delivery of our sweet teas. I pull my hand away from Dev’s, gripping my glass and taking a sip. It’s as sweet as I was expecting, with a little twist of lemon. Perfect.