Delilah looked from him to her son nervously, and her eyes glistened as if she suppressed tears. Maverick could see the agitation creep up and cover her lovely features. She seems to age before him. Maverick was an excellent detective once—a really good one. To be a better one, he had to know and understand people. Maverick learned a lot about her. The first lesson was the invite from her was all part of a plan to control him. There was only one problem with her plans. He was not a man to be controlled.
“Okay, but I’ll just be in the next room,” she warned him.
Noah didn’t seem to notice his mother push back from the table and stand. But she could barely take a step without looking up with concern.
“He’ll be fine. I’m an officer of the law, remember? I’m here to serve and protect.”
Delilah hesitated to say what she really thought. Instead, she abandoned the debate. Maverick bit back the urge to tell her to stay. “I’ll figure you out next,” he mumbled to himself as he watched her walk away.
Noah ran after her, crying. She stopped him. He watched as she took him by the hand and led him to the scooter. Delilah whispered something to him and kissed his ear, then cheek. Whatever she said seem to soothe him. Noah turned and went to the kitchen cabinets. Delilah left them to their father-son privacy without another word. Maverick was alone with his son for the first time. Noah didn’t seem to notice when Maverick approach. The toddler yanked out pot after pot as if in search of something lost. Maverick had to admire how crafty and strong he was. No matter the size of the pot, out it went. Maverick approached him. Noah was two. A short, stocky little tot. He could easily pass for one. Maverick wondered if his son would be short like his mother or grow as tall as him. It amazed him that he had a child in this world with a woman he barely knew. Part him, and part her made a perfect little human. It had to be destiny or dignity. Noah turned with the pot lid he must have wanted and looked surprised to see Maverick and not his mother standing before him. The kid's head went back as he stared up at him.
“What you got there?” Maverick asked. Noah dismissed the question and started to walk past him in search of his mother.
“Ma-Ma!” Noah said.
“Hey buddy,” Maverick said and touched his waist to delay him. “Can I see it?”
“Pot!” Noah shared. It was the first time the kid had spoken to him directly. And he said the word clearly.
“Well, actually, you have is the lid to the pot. Can you say lid?” Maverick asked.
“Lid,” Noah said.
“Where is the rest of it?” Maverick asked.
Noah glanced at all the pots on the floor. He then looked to Maverick for an explanation. His son was sharp. It was Maverick’s move to make it happen, a smile, a token of trust, something between them. The pressure was on Maverick to decide, and he felt it thumping in his chest. “Try that one.”
Noah walked over and put the lid on the pot next to the one that Maverick pointed at. He didn’t correct his son. Noah stepped back with a puzzled look. The pot cover didn’t fit, and he couldn't discern why. However, the kid looked as if he had just discovered more use for pots than just removing them from the cabinet. He then proceeded to try to fit the lid to multiple pots. Maverick walked over to the bowl of rice and dates that were supposed to be his son’s lunch. It looked like nothing. What happened to peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and some chips? He returned with the bowl and sat on the floor. Noah glanced at him and watched as Maverick pretended to eat. Soon after, Noah walked over and opened his mouth.
“So you are hungry?” Maverick asked. He fed him a scoop. Noah grinned with approval. He chewed for Maverick before he returned to his pots.
“This is strange, isn’t it? You and me?” Maverick asked.
Noah walked over with his mouth open for more. He waited patiently for Maverick to scoop some rice and feed him. He accepted the helping and went back to his pots. Maverick smiled. “What else do you like to eat? I mean, ah, grilled cheese sandwiches? Cakes and cookies? Hey kid, do you like steak? I can make a mean steak.”
Noah banged two lids together.
“Maybe I can make you my famous grilled cheese and tomato sandwich to start off with? What do you think? And we’ll definitely get peanut butter and jam. That has to be a winner. Right? Oh! Have you ever had Nutella? I can make Nutella pancakes. My girl—ah, my friend Camille liked them a lot. I made them for her. What do you think?”
Noah returned to the cabinets to get more pots.
“You’re not listening to me, are you?” Maverick chuckled. He glanced around and realized that lunch would take hours if he sat on the floor and offered it to Noah this way. Maverick got up and set the bowl on the counter. He checked the cabinets and found some soups and plenty of herbs. Maverick went to the fridge and found containers of meals that have been pre-prepped. Each one orderly arranged and labeled for either Delilah, and for Noah. The moment the refrigerator opened, Noah looked over-curious. The little tot came straight for him. He pushed at Maverick’s legs and started to reach inside to unload the bottom shelf from its contents.
“Not so fast, buddy,” Maverick said. He picked him up and placed him on his hip to hold him secure. Noah stared at him curiously. His little hand touched the side of his jaw again.
“What do you think? Should we try something else for lunch? Something fun?”
Noah looked at the food as if he were doubtful. Maverick smiled and grabbed the jam. While holding Noah, he went to the toaster and dropped in two slices of bread. He spread out the jam on the bread and brought it back to the table. Noah immediately wiggled to be free. The toddler went for his scooter and scooted it back over.
“So I think we’ve found some common ground, huh? Jam is your favorite and toast?” Noah held out his hand. Maverick hadn’t seen the boy more excited.
“Toast!” Noah proclaimed. Noah smeared the jelly all over his face and hands as he gobbled up the toast he placed on the tray for him.
“Not sure if that is the way to eat it. But close enough. Lunch is a success. Right?”
Delilah covered her mouth to keep her giggles from being heard. She watched the video of Maverick with Noah on her iPhone. She had an app that would allow her to access the other rooms in her house to always track Noah when he slipped away. After Charles’s death, her father and Jefferson both installed cameras. She hadn’t seen any man except for her own father connect with Noah so easily. And Maverick wasn’t an average man. He was tall, much taller than Charles. He didn’t have a fully grown beard, just the shadow of one. And his mustache wasn’t thick or thin. It lay in perfect symmetry across his lips. He had curly hair like Noah. But his was darkest brown, almost black and greyed at the temples. His eyes were the most shocking. It was how she knew Noah was his upon their first meeting. Delilah cried a full day afterward. A mix between hazel brown and green under a thick, brooding brow, his eyes pierced when they focused on her. Early after he arrived, he flirted. Delilah felt his eyes on her when he didn’t know she noticed. Charles never really looked at her that intensely. And Charles was the only man she knew in a sexually familiar way.
Noah laughed.
Though Delilah was not for her son eating too many sweet things, she imagined jelly toast would be a new item on the menu for him. The jelly or jam was something her mother had brought into the house, Delilah was sure. When Maverick was done with feeding Noah, he cleaned him the best he could with paper towels. She figured it was a good time for her to return.