“Auntie Shell and I made our own patties. And she showed me how to make burger sauce. We’re staying for dinner, right?”
Ben looked at me with those pleading eyes, making my earlier resolve not to stay weaken. We’d eaten here every night this week. It felt wrong to impose. But it also felt wrong not to stay, seeing how they put so much work into dinner. But I also felt bad, putting Shelley out like that. It was already a huge deal for her to be taking care of Ben for me. Feeding us was not part of our arrangement.
“I don’t know, Ben. I’m sure Shelley has plans tonight. It is Friday, after all.”
“No, no plans.” She walked back outside, carrying the hamburger buns. “Other than dinner with you guys.” She lifted the buns higher, indicating the amount she had on the tray. I didn’t imagine Shell could eat that many.
“If you’re sure it’s not a problem?” I rubbed my jaw, the two-day-old scruff rough on my skin.
“It would be a serious problem if you decided to ditch me with all of this food. Seriously, no worries.”
Shelley offered me one of her warm smiles—the kind that lit up her whole face and made those blue eyes sparkle, reflecting the soft evening sun. Those blue eyes reminded me of Zoë, but that was where the resemblance ended. Zoë would always wear whatever she had lying around. It never seemed to match, an uncoordinated mesh that somehow seemed to work for her. Shelley was the complete opposite. Each time I saw her, either at work or in a more relaxed setting at home, she wore clothes in tones that matched and that fit her like a glove. It showed off all of her soft curves in the best possible way.
Shelley was also a naturally cheerful person. She wore a constant smile, not needing any incentive. It appeared to be second nature to her.
“What?” Shelley laughed a little too loudly. “Do I have something stuck to my face?”
“Um…” I swallowed, glancing down. I walked up to her, tucking her hair behind her ear, running my finger along her cheek and down her neck, pretending to brush a non-existing something away, my fingertips lingering slightly longer on her exposed, tender skin. I had no idea what I was doing, but somehow the moment my hand touched that soft patch of skin, it felt like my subconscious was urging me on, driving me to explore what it had imagined doing. Shelley’s gaze stayed glued to mine, her eyes widening when my fingertips grazed her skin, but she didn’t pull back. Her eyes searched mine, but I just returned her stare. I had no idea what was happening. All I knew was that the nerve endings in my fingers were on fire, sending ripples through my whole hand and up my arm. “There,” I choked out, clearing my throat and pulling my arm back before I spoke up again. “All gone.”
I clenched my hand and released it, hoping to force a normal blood flow through it and erase whatever this bizarre sensation was that pulsed through me.
Ben eyed me, pulling his brow up in question before shaking it off and returning his attention to the grill. I wished I could shake it off as easily as him.
Shelley’s face was still scrunched up. She started rearranging everything on the table, placing the bowl of salad on the left, and moving the bowl of sliced tomatoes over to the center, and then moving everything back again.
“I forgot the burger sauce,” she said, turning to the kitchen before either Ben or I could respond.
“I can get…” Ben called out after her, but he was too late. She was already inside, the screen panels swishing from her fast passage. “I would have gotten it.” Ben turned to me, his gaze ping-ponging between me and the sliding door Shelley disappeared through.
“I know,” I said, the churning knot in my belly distracting me. I rubbed my palms on my jeans, both eager and dreading Shelley coming back through that door.
Why did I give in to that impulse?
I usually had a much better check on myself. There was something about Shelley that brought out the carefree streak in me that I thought I left buried deep down and forgotten about. I never gave in to my emotions like that.
Shelley walked outside, the bowl of homemade sauce clutched firmly in her hands, her expression blank.
“How are those burgers looking?” She put an apron on and joined Ben at the grill, helping him scoop up the grilled patties and putting them on a tray to bring to the table.
“All done, Dad. Let’s eat.” Ben held the tray in his hand, his chest jutted out, his shoulders back.
“That looks amazing. Well done, Ben.” My lips pulled up in a broad smile. I looked up at Shelley and mouthed thank you to her. She couldn’t imagine the difference her kind words and encouragement made to Ben. And me. All Ben had ever heard was me cheering him on. And Shelley and her parents from a distance. This was new. I’d already noticed a difference in him this past week as he’d spent time with her. He was a lot more sure of himself.
Shelley’s stiff posture loosened and her easy smile returned, brightening up her whole countenance.
“I know, right? I might have to keep Ben out of school and keep him on as my personal assistant.” Shelley wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. She met my gaze again and mouthed no problem. Her words and the warmth radiating from her had me zoned in on her. I couldn’t look away.
“Can I, Dad?” Ben’s excited voice questioned, distracting me.
“What, bud?” My eyes lingered a second longer.
“Can I? Please, Dad? Be Shelley’s assistant?”
“No!” Both Shelley and I called out at the same moment.
“Oh, man!” Ben complained.
I shook my head, suppressing a laugh.
“Tell you what, though.” Shelley sat down, inviting us to join her at the table on the deck. “You can help me out whenever you’re here. If your dad says it’s okay. All right?” She glanced up through her long lashes, checking for my approval.
“Sure thing, Ben. You can help Auntie Shelley out whenever you’re here.”
“Yeah, whenever that’ll be. I have to go back to Carol on Monday.” He rolled his eyes and slumped in his chair, looking more like a teenager than my ten-year-old boy.
“I’m sure your dad and I can figure something out so you and I can hang out more.”
Ben was ready to protest again, but Shelley interrupted him. “Let’s eat before it gets cold, okay?”
“Okay.” He took the tray with the buns and offered one to Shelley.
The conversation soon shifted to Ben explaining to me how he cooked the meal, checking details with Shelley. Each time he explained a step in the process, I noticed how Shelley complimented him. Either she’d mention something he did that he’d gotten better at this week with all the practice they’d put into it, like his skill in dicing the onion, or she’d take a bite of her food and rave about the flavor. I could see Ben light up and straighten each time she praised him.
“Do you want me to put the leftover meat in the fridge?” Ben got up, holding his empty plate.
“Yes, please,” Shelley replied.
I eyed them both, my brows pulling together.
When Ben was out of hearing range, Shelley spoke up. “Today we had a lesson on clearing up after cooking and eating. I taught him the importance of always clearing up as soon as possible and getting the dishes done immediately. He’s just putting into practice what we spoke about earlier.”