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I lift my head as Evie comes running into my room, her face smeared with chocolate as she opens her arms wide and throws herself into my arms.
My mother follows with a smile on her face. “I found someone sitting on the counter eating cookies out of the cookie jar.”
I frown playfully at my daughter. “What have I told you about sitting on the counter?”
My daughter gazes soulfully up into my eyes and answers in her sweet voice. “That butts are gross and don't go where food goes.”
I touch the tip of her nose with my index finger. “Exactly. So what the heck were you thinking, little lady?”
She giggles at my light-hearted tone.
“I think that she was thinking she wanted cookies.” My mom chimes in, her voice filled with laughter.
Evie nods as if her grandmother has nailed the heart of the issue. “I wanted cookies, Mommy. But I brought you one.” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a crumbled cookie.
I pull her closer and press a quick kiss to her temple. “I love you so much,” I whisper.
“I love you more,” Evie responds.
“And I love you most, both of you.” My mother adds and my chest expands with love and joy.
Chapter Twenty
Charles
This has quickly become my favorite part of the day.
Now that my eating habits have shifted, thanks to Alisha, she makes me premade meals the night before so we can sit down and share breakfast together instead. I sip on my coffee before digging into my overnight oats.
I'd never liked oatmeal before. I always thought it was a bland, dull breakfast, but the way she makes it is incredible. Somehow, she manages to pack a ton of flavor into very little space. And the best part is, it's good for me.
Today, the flavors of vanilla and fruit mingle together on my tongue. There’s a crunch from her homemade granola and plenty of rich fruits, blueberries, strawberries, cherries, and a few others I don’t recognize. To make sure I meet my protein goals for the day, she'd added some vanilla protein powder to the mix along with actual vanilla and a touch of maple syrup and honey.
“Before you became my cook, I'd never eat oatmeal.” I glance at her and she peeks at me over the rim of her coffee cup. “I had a couple other nutritionists try to shove oats down my throat, but I was not here for it.”
She arches an eyebrow at me. “How many other cooks did you have before me?”
I take a sip of my coffee. “Is that a hint of jealousy I detect?”
She laughs and shakes her head. “No, I just want to know how big of a pain you were and how many quit before I got here.”
“Seven.” I try to recall their names and faces, but they all just blur together.
Her expression drops into one of absolute surprise as she sets her coffee cup down on the table. “Seven?” She seems stunned, but I lift my shoulders. Seven doesn't seem like a big number.
“Okay, maybe I am a little bit jealous.” She says the words with so much humor. I know she's just teasing.
“Well, don't be. You’re here, and they're not.” That's what it all boils down to. If she wants to look at it from a win lose situation, she's the one that won, and they all lost. Provided being my cook constitutes winning for her, which I like to think it does. I hope so, at least.
“And I’m glad to be here.” With that one sentence, she lays all my fears to rest, and I glance down into my nearly empty bowl of oatmeal, feeling sad that the deliciousness is nearly over.
“Have you made a decision whether you're going to tell him or not?” I ask the question gently, hoping that she knows she can tell me it’s none of my business, if that's what she'd like. I am curious what her plans are moving forward, because I know what I'd like my plans to be, but only if they fit within the scope of what she’s looking for.
She takes another sip of her coffee, lowering it to the table once more, her gaze drifting off along with her thoughts. “I think I'm going to tell him because it feels like the right thing to do. I might not like him on a personal level, but that doesn't mean that she should miss out on knowing her dad, or that he should miss out on knowing he has a daughter.”
“I'm sure that was a difficult decision.” I'm proud of her for sticking to her morals and trying to do what's best for her daughter and what's best for Methew, even though I’m reasonably certain he would never do the right thing by her. She's a good woman and it shows. A woman that any man would be proud of and lucky to be close to.
I have to ask myself if I’m a man that deserves a woman like her. There are things that I should work on to heal before I start any relationship. I'm not good at opening up, I'm not good at talking to people and I'm not good at being vulnerable. All things that I've heard are important in relationships. So maybe now is a good time to start.
