got no one to help her at home. I’m going to take care of her for the night. I need you to watch Sebastian and take him to kindergarten tomorrow.”
Lachlan nodded. He cast Sebastian’s little bag over his shoulder, about the same size as the Tinkerbell one the team still forced him carry to practice.
“Is Aunt Meredith okay?” he asked.
“Oh, she’ll be fine. I just want to make sure she’s not alone tonight.” His mother gave me a gentle smile. “I’m sorry if this interferes with any plans you might have had.”
Lachlan gestured to me. “Mom, this is Elle. Elle, this is my mom, Fiona.”
“So you’re the mystery wife.”
My reputation preceded me.
“Oh.” I hesitated. “He told you?”
Lachlan winked. “I tell my mom everything.”
“How…sweet.” What kind of weird, Twilight Zone dimension was this? I’d never met anyone who actually talked, let alone trusted, their parents. “And not at all…awkward.”
Fiona laughed. “Oh, don’t worry, honey. We all make mistakes. Feel free to blame Lachlan.” She pulled her son in for a hug once more. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?”
“Yeah. No problem.”
“Sebastian hasn’t eaten.”
“Neither have we.”
Fiona shook her head. “Then I wish you the best of luck. Please try to feed him something other than pizza. I’d like this child to get a little nutrition at some point in his life.”
“We’ll make him a real dinner.”
We? I shrugged at him. “Maybe I should let you and him spend some time together—”
“It took me this long to score a date with you—you’re staying.” He waved for Fiona to go. “You take care of Aunt Meredith. Say bye to Mom, Bast.”
Sebastian yelled from inside his pillow fort. “I’m Sebastian!”
Lachlan shrugged. “See. We got this.”
Fiona waved goodbye and hurried to her car. Lachlan closed the door, leaning against it with a sharp exhale.
“Sorry about this,” he said.
“I didn’t take you for the baby-sitting type.”
“I help her out as much as I can. It’s always been the two of us…” He nodded toward the collapsing pillow fort. “Well, three of us now. Gotta stick together. Family first, right?”
Yeah, right. He was speaking to a girl who hadn’t seen her family in years.
A girl who left two voice mails for a father within the past week.
A girl who had yet to hear back from her father because she had so ruined any possible relationship with him and her family it was unlikely he even thought of her as a daughter anymore.
If I had been as devoted to my siblings as Lachlan was to Sebastian, things might have been a lot different.
“Are you okay with staying here?” Lachlan asked. “I’ll make us dinner.”
“Are you a good cook?”
“No idea. We’ll find out.”
Well, this had the potential for disaster. I kicked off my heels and readied to watch the fireworks.
Lachlan surveyed the mess of pillows cluttering his living room. He picked a cushion up with his right hand and fished out a squirming Sebastian with his left.
“Okay, little man. Are you hungry?”
“I want pizza!”
“Not every dinner has to be delivered in thirty minutes or less, kiddo.”
Sebastian laughed as Lachlan flipped him onto the pillows. He curled a finger for me to follow.
I liked the kitchen—white and beachy, just like the rest of the house. Huge windows captured the sunset, streaming orange-gold light over the quartz counters. An eat-in table wedged in the corner, opposite an entrance to a formal dining room which seemed to be a catch-all for Lachlan’s equipment.
The duffel bags were his only clutter. No decorations on the shelves. No art or pictures on the walls. Totally minimalist, unlike me.
Weird.
“I…uh…” Lachlan took inventory of his fridge with a frown. “Have a private chef now. I’ve never cooked much. Mom handled dinners when I was at home, and I ate in the athletic dining hall at college…”
He glanced at me. I hated to dash his hopes.
“I…usually grab a salad from a little bistro near my apartment on my way home from the practices.”
“Never learned at home?”
“The only thing I learned in the kitchen at home was how to jiggle the screen door so it wouldn’t squeak when I was sneaking out.”
“Naughty girl.”
Not really. Dinner time was always the worst. Dad usually demanded one of my sisters prepare him dinner. As the youngest, I never had that responsibility. Instead I was meant to sit at the table, completely silent as a woman was meant to be, and listen politely as he talked about his day at the office. It worked fine until my sisters were married off or away at