“I guess you’ll have to go see for yourself,” Oliver replied.
In an instant, Reese disappeared down the hallway toward the kitchen. The minute she made it in there, she gasped. “Oh my gosh, Mr. Mith! This is amazing! Mama, you have to come see this!” she screamed.
I smiled toward Oliver. “You really didn’t have to get her anything.”
“It’s not a big deal. I figured she could use some things to keep her busy.” He slid his hands into his pockets and gave me his halfway grin. “You look nice today.”
I glanced down to my teal sundress and smiled. Then back to him in his dark slacks and smooth black crewneck that hugged every muscle on his body. “You don’t look half-bad yourself.”
We stood there for a moment, taking one another in, and I wondered if he felt the butterflies that I felt too. I wondered if his heartbeats raced at the speed of light like mine did whenever I was near him.
“Mama!” Reese screeched, demanding my attention at that very moment.
We walked into the kitchen to find a full-blown display of female superhero action figures and dolls, along with a cape that had Reese’s name on the back of it. Kelly was already helping her tie it around her neck.
On the table were doughnuts that had small capes drawn on them too.
“Look, Mama! I’m a superhero!” Reese remarked, striking her power pose.
I snickered at her happiness as she jumped up and down. “This is too much,” I told Oliver.
“No, it’s just enough!” Reese exclaimed, picking up two of the action figures. “Look! It’s Wonder Woman and Captain Marvel. There’s even Gamora!”
“Wow, that’s amazing. And what do we say to Oliver?”
Reese looked up and got a bit bashful. It wasn’t every day that the very loud, energetic girl quieted down. She walked over to Oliver and wrapped her arms around his legs, giving him a hug. “Thank you, Mr. Mith, for being nice to me even though I told you your music was garbage before.”
“Reese!” I scolded.
She looked at me with widened innocent eyes. “What, Mama! I didn’t say it was trash again, even though it kind of still is,” she explained. I didn’t know what was worse—her words or the true confusion sitting in her eyes.
Oliver snickered and bent down to start tickling her. “Oh, you really think it’s garbage, huh?”
Reese giggled nonstop as the two of them went back and forth. The sight of them interacting, the sight of Oliver playing and letting loose with my daughter, was the oddest turn-on to me.
And that, kids, is how I met your father.
Pregnant on the spot.
Kelly took Reese off to the dining room to enjoy their doughnuts and to play with the action figures while I began pulling out some of the things I’d prepped the day before.
“Wait, you can’t cook without your gift,” Oliver said, reaching for something hanging on the back of one of the stools. He held it up, and I started instantly cracking up at the apron in his hands.
“A superhero chef apron?”
“Seems fitting enough.” He walked over to me and slightly nodded in my direction. “May I?”
“You may.”
He slid the apron over my head, and when I turned my back to him for him to tie it, butterflies began to somersault in my stomach as he pulled the strings around my waist. For a second his fingers stilled. For a moment, his fingers brushed against my hips. His fingers then rested against my lower back. I shut my eyes and held my breath, feeling his proximity that close to me. I swore I felt his breaths brush against my neck. I swore, his body slightly pressed against mine. I swore, I wanted more . . .
“There you go,” he said, knotting my apron in place and taking a step away from me.
I released the inhalation I’d been holding.
“Thanks.” I smoothed out the apron and turned to face him, hoping he wouldn’t see how flustered he’d made me.
His hands slid into his slacks, and he stood tall. He looked different today. Still handsome, still dreamy, but maybe . . . happier? There was something about him that seemed different. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, though.
“Everyone should be getting here in about three hours. So how can I help you?” he asked, rubbing his hands together.
I arched an eyebrow. “Help me? In the kitchen?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you cook?”
“I can make a mean grilled cheese. I know you might use your fancy cheese and whatnot, and add avocado and fancy bacon, but my grilled cheese cannot be topped.”
“Is that so?”
“It is. You’ll be begging for seconds.”
I laughed. “You’ll have to make it for me one day, then.”
“I look forward to that. So, what can I do in the meantime to help?”
“Uh, nothing.”
“What?”
“I’m sorry, Oliver. I’m not letting you near any of the food I’m preparing for today. It’s too important for me that everything be perfect.”
“It doesn’t have to be perfect. It’s just a few close friends.”
“And your parents,” I added.
He raised an eyebrow. “You’re trying to impress my parents?”
“Maybe.”
“Why?”
“Uh, I don’t know . . . maybe because they’re your parents?”
He gave me a sly grin, and the amount he’d been smiling over the past few days made me want to wrap my arms around him and hold him close. Maybe that was what was different. He was smiling.
“You’re smiling more,” I commented, allowing my thoughts to leave my head.
“Am I?”
“You are.”
“I must be in good company.”
Oh, Oliver. Don’t make me blush.
“Why are you single?” he asked, throwing me completely off.
I turned to him and raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“Sorry. I’ve just been wondering. You’re a good woman. I mean, not that being single means you’re not a good woman. What I mean is, do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Date.”
Oh.
“Well, after Reese, I had a hard time even getting dressed in the morning. Then, as she grew older, I was always working two jobs at least. Time wasn’t really on my hands to be dating. Plus, growing up, I never really saw decent relationships. So it hasn’t been at the forefront of my mind.”
“So you have no interest in it?”
“In dating? If it were the right person, I guess.”
“What makes a person the right person?”
I was surprised at all the questions he was shooting my way. Each day it seemed as if Oliver’s words flowed easier when he was around me. As if he were getting out of his own way with his thoughts.
“Oh, I don’t know, someone who’s caring. And romantic. And kind. Loves kids, obviously. Someone who listens. Someone like . . .” You . . . “Someone like that. Someone who makes me feel like home.”
“I see.” His brows lowered. “Someone who makes you feel safe.”
“Exactly. Who makes me feel like I belong.”
“You do that to me,” he confessed. “Make me feel like I belong. No one has done that since my brother.”