The Boss Upstairs - Roya Carmen Page 0,94
TV. I’m not so impressed when I see the price tag though. It’s sixty dollars. But since Weston has kindly paid for all the tickets, I can afford it. They’re only young once, as they say.
Weston insists on paying for the turtle and we have quite the dispute about it. Finally, he relents and lets me buy my boy his toy. I scowl at him all the way out of the aquarium.
Ethan hugs his turtle like it’s about to leave for college. When I attempt to pry it from his pudgy little hands, he screams. Weston kneels down and explains the situation. “See all those steps, Ethan?”
Ethan stares down the giant stairway dotted with people, walking up and down.
“You can’t carry that big turtle and walk down the stairs at the same time,” Weston explains. “You’re too small. You might fall and hurt yourself.”
Ethan raises a brow, pondering what he’s just been told. He doesn’t say much, but he seems to understand everything. He’s smart, like his dad.
“Do you want me to carry your turtle for you?” Weston asks. “I’ll give it back when we get to the bottom.”
Ethan nods repeatedly and hands the giant turtle to Weston.
Following a long walk down the steps, I spot Weston’s town car, waiting for us in the distance. Ethan stretches to the tip of his toes and grabs at his turtle. Weston gladly hands it back.
We say hello to Edward, and all hop in the car.
As soon as we’re all settled in, I lean back and close my eyes. I’m thoroughly exhausted.
The ride doesn’t feel too long, and when we finally arrive, Edward helps us out of the car, and I thank him again. Weston takes my hand and Ethan’s too as we head into Orchard Heights. “I have a surprise for you.”
“Oh, I don’t know if I can take any more surprises, Weston. I’m exhausted.”
He smiles, but doesn’t say a thing.
“And I still need to go cook dinner and give Ethan his bath.”
“Well, that’s my surprise,” he cheers. “We’re making you dinner. At my place.”
“Really?” I’m liking the sound of this.
“How does veal piccata with capers, pasta, grilled eggplant and homemade bread sound to you?”
“Well, I don’t know about the eggplant, but the rest sounds delicious.”
He presses the elevator button. “It’s all taken care of.”
We all step into the elevator, and as I reach for the 2 button, he stops me. “We’re all going up to the penthouse.”
“Right now?”
He smiles. “Yes, Ashton and Lizzie are working on dinner as we speak.”
“You have them for the weekend?”
“Yes, Bridget was kind enough to tweak the schedule. I wanted them home tonight. I want all of us to spend time together.”
“They’re making me dinner?” I ask, flabbergasted.
He takes my hand. “Yes… they like you a lot, Gretchen. They know what you and Ethan mean to me. We talk about you all the time.” He smiles. “They were on to us straight from the beginning. They’re happy for me.”
“Well, kids can be a lot more perceptive than we give them credit for.”
I’m not sure what this all means. I’m not sure if it excites me. Or if it scares me.
Ashton and Lizzie are both sporting aprons. They smile at us when we come in. “Nice turtle, kid,” Ashton says.
Ethan smiles wide. He’s proud of his turtle.
“Daddy!” A flustered Lizzie hands her dad a sheet of paper covered with scribbles. “Does this say 375 degrees?”
Weston smiles. “Yes.”
“Oh good, I wasn’t sure if it said 350.”
“The bread is ready,” Ashton tells him. “Looks good.”
Weston turns to me. “You’ll have to excuse me. I need to take over in the kitchen, check on everything. You two can make yourselves comfortable in the living room.
He turns to his daughter. “Could you offer them something to drink?”
“Sure,” she says with a smile.
As Ethan and I head over to the living room, I can’t help thinking that his children are exceptionally polite and sweet. But how could they not be? They’re Weston’s.
Ethan and I flip through the Architectural Digests, and when we get thoroughly bored with that, we discuss a possible name for his turtle. Finally, after much debate, we decide to name him Crush, after the cool sea turtle in Finding Nemo. Admittedly, we are not exactly original.
“So there’s Dumbo and Crush. What about your new monkey?” I say. “What should we call him?”
“Dinner is finally ready,” Weston announces, all smiles.
“Yes,” I practically squeal. “I’m famished.”
“Glad to hear it.” He leads us to the dining room, where a beautifully set table