awaits us. Ashton is busy pouring water, and Elizabeth is setting down dishes. Salad, cooked green beans, baked eggplant, veal and pasta.
My stomach growls at the sight. “Wow, did you two really do all this?”
They both smile. “With Daddy’s help,” Lizzie offers.
Weston pulls a chair for Ethan. There’s already a booster seat with a tray secured to it. My heart swells to twice its size. He’s thought of everything.
He helps me get Ethan secured in his seat, and then he pulls a chair for me.
“Why, thank you, Sir. You are such a gentleman.”
Finally, following what seems like an eternity, we are all seated with eager stomachs.
“Bon Appétit!” Weston cheers. “Let’s dig in.”
We all help ourselves, and the conversation flows smoothly. Ashton talks about his driving course, and Lizzie goes on about a new friend she’s made at school. I savor every bite. It is really good. Even the eggplant is tasty. I’m happy to just listen and eat as the kids jabber away. Before long, the conversation turns to me, and we chat about the work I do for their father, and the daycare Ethan attends.
“He’s really cute,” Lizzie says. “I like that he doesn’t cry.”
“Yep… he’s pretty much always happy.”
Weston and I steal glances here and there. I love seeing him in this context, with his kids. Weston, the family man versus Mr. Hanson, the boss. Both sides of him are very sexy.
We all work in unison to clean up the dining room table and the kitchen. Everything in Weston’s kitchen is sleek and top of the line. The counter is mostly bare, save for the small appliances, unlike my own counter which is covered with spices, a bottle of olive oil, sippy cups and boxes of cereal.
We settle down on the sofa, and Weston digs out his kids’ old books. He reads Ethan Dr. Seuss’ Green Eggs and Ham. Ethan loves the musical play on words. Ethan’s having a good time, but I can tell he’s tired. He’s rubbing his eyes and twirling a lock of his hair, both tell-tale signs.
I watch them for a long beat. He’s already getting close to Weston, getting attached. And this scares me. Ethan has never had a father figure. It’s most likely a psychological need for most children, to have both a mother and father to look up to. He needs this. He wants this. And what if it were suddenly taken from him when he finally had a taste of it?
“We should get going,” I say. “Ethan is tired. I should put him to bed.”
“Why don’t you two stay the night,” he suggests, taking me by surprise. “He could sleep in the guest room.”
“Uh… I don’t know…”
A slow smile curves his lips. “If I recall correctly, I still owe you a massage,” he whispers. “And a few other delights.”
The thought of this really makes me stop and think. Maybe Ethan wouldn’t mind. Maybe he would even love it. “Well… let’s see what Ethan thinks.”
Weston smiles. “Hey, Ethan. Do you like big beds?”
Ethan grins and nods.
Weston rises from the sofa and takes Ethan’s hand. “Let’s go see the guest room. There’s a big bed in there.”
I follow them as we head to the guest room.
Ethan runs in eagerly, and points excitedly. “Turtle.”
Thank goodness he can’t reach that high because that turtle would be in serious danger. He motions to the wall, and points at a photo of a dolphin. “Fish.”
I smile. “I think he likes this room.”
Weston grins playfully. “So Ethan, do you want to sleep in this bed?”
Ethan dashes over to the bed, and attempts to climb up on the mattress but it sits too high, nestled between four posts. Weston helps him up, and Ethan jumps up and down on the mattress.
I scurry over. “No jumping, Ethan, okay? You could fall.”
He stops and sits.
“So how about it?” I say. “Do you want to sleep on this bed?”
He nods enthusiastically.
“We’ll just need to go fetch a few things from our place,” I tell Weston.
He smiles and kisses me on the cheek. “Don’t be too long.”
Ethan and I dash to the elevator, ride down, and scurry across the hall to our place. I quickly pack all we’ll need for the sleepover. Ethan is as giddy as I am — he knows we’re up to something fun.
When we get back to the penthouse, I bring him to the washroom. He pees and I slide some Pull-Ups on. He’s fully potty trained but still wears the Pull-Ups at night. We wash our hands