20. Paper Rings
TWENTY
PAPER RINGS
Trey
I unload containers of Chicken Tikka Marsala, Tandoori Chicken, and Samosas on the counter. After Rylee’s bingo stunt, I knew her feelings for me run deeper than she wants to admit. I’ve waited over thirty years to find the perfect woman, I can wait a little longer. That also won’t stop me from wooing the hell of her at every opportunity. Tonight that includes me bringing over dinner.
“This smells delicious.” Rylee strolls up from behind me and presses a kiss to my cheek.
I wrap my arm around her waist, hauling her to me before she can get away. “You smell even better.” I nuzzle my nose right below her ear and press my lips to her neck savoring her sweet vanilla scent.
She tilts her head, giving me better access. “Mmm. As much as I want you to continue with the kisses, Abby’s in the other room.”
I give her another quick kiss and break a part.
Abby races down the hallway and into the kitchen. “Trey!”
“Abby!” I bend down on one knee. We slap hands together and then wiggle our fingers.
Rylee’s gaze flits from me to Abby, an amused grin on her face. “What was that?”
“Our secret handshake,” I say.
“Yeah! Our secret handshake!” Abby repeats.
“Now, I feel left out that I don’t get a secret handshake.” She teasingly juts out her bottom lip.
Rising to my feet, I lean in next to her ear. I lower my voice to a hushed tone, ensuring that only she can hear. “I’ll give you something to shake later.” I wink.
She gently pushes me away and softly laughs. “Abby, go wash your hands for dinner.”
Abby scampers through the kitchen and the faucet in the bathroom turns on. Rylee’s phone buzzes on the counter. Her eyebrows pinch together as she stares at the screen.
“It’s work. Let me see what it is.”
I nod.
She answers the phone. All I hear is “yeah” and “okay”. There’s a moment of silence before she ends the call and tucks her phone in her pocket. “That was Dessa. Chad didn’t show up to work, and she’s swamped. Jake is on his way, but it will be a couple of hours before he can get there. I have to go help her. I hate to ask this, but can you watch Abby?”
“Oh. Um. Yeah. Sure.” Sweat dampens my palms. Sure, I’ve hung out with my friends’ kids, but there were always other adults around to supervise me. I’ve never had to be responsible for keeping one alive by myself. Growing up, I had a younger brother and sister, but by the time they were six, I was sixteen and I never had to watch them.
“Thank you so much. It should just be a couple of hours. You have both my cell and the bar number if there’s a problem. Marcie is next door as well.” She scrambles to collect her wallet and keys. “Abby! Come here, please!”
Abby races into the kitchen at the only speed she knows, fast.
“I have to go to work for a little bit. So, Trey is going to stay here with you, Okay?”
“Okay,” Abby says.
“There’s dinner on the counter.” Rylee points to the bag of food. “All the emergency phone numbers are on the fridge if anything were to happen. Okay?”
I nod along even though she’s speaking to Abby.
“Got it,” Abby and I say at the same time.
“I have to go.” Rylee leans over, pressing a kiss on Abby’s forehead. “I love you.”
She straightens to her full height and blurts out, “I love you.” before her lips land on mine. We both freeze. Slowly, she pulls away. Her eyes are frantic as they shift over my face, wanting to read my reaction. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.
I clear my throat. “Don’t worry about it. Everyone drops a casual ‘I love you’ to me. The other day, the security guard at The Blue Stone Group held the door open for me. I thanked him and he told me he loved me. Another time I was ordering coffee at Roasters, the barista handed me my coffee and told me they loved me. I’m just a loveable guy.” I shrug and give her a half-smile. As much as I want to believe that she meant those words, the horror on her face tells me otherwise.
The sharp lines on her face soften. “I’ll be back later.”
“Mommy?”
Rylee glances down and Abby’s holding out her hand in the shape of a half heart. “Right. Sorry.” She bends down and completes the heart with her hand. “I love you always.”
“I love you forever.” Abby beams at her.
A wave of warmth washes over me from their goodbye. It’s like the video I watched where a couple took in a stray cat and then, a week later, the cat carried her kittens into the house one by one. That’s the kind of shit that would make anyone’s eyes leak.
“Now I have to go. See you two later.” The front door closes with a click.
“Alright kid, it’s just you and me.” We silently stare at each other, sizing each other up. She’s six and could probably sit like this for hours. I, on the other hand, can’t. I shift my gaze, losing the stare off. “Are you hungry?” I pull open a cupboard on the left, then the right, searching for plates.
Abby pulls out a stool next to the fridge and unfolds it until it clicks into place. She places it next to me and climbs up, pulling open a door and revealing a stack of plates.
“I was going to get there. Eventually.”
She passes me two plates, and I set them on the counter.
“For your next magic trick, you pull out two forks.” I wave my finger in a figure eight as if it’s a magician’s wand.
Abby throws her head back, cackling with laughter. “No! They’re in the drawer.” She pulls it open and holds up two forks.
“I’m telling you. It’s magic.”
I dish up two plates and set them side by side on the small kitchen counter. Abby climbs up on the stool next to me and plops down.
“You know, I’ve never known a six-year-old who likes Indian food.” I take a bite of the Tandoori Chicken.
“Mommy says I’m a food con dinosaur.” She shoves a fork full of Chicken Tikka Masala and rice into her mouth.
My eyebrows knit together, trying to puzzle together what a food dinosaur could be. “Do you mean food connoisseur?”
She nods.
I shrug. “When I was your age, all I wanted to eat was cereal and chicken nuggets. I guess times have changed.” I push my plate away and rest my elbows on the counter. Next to me, Abby barks out a giggle. “What’s so funny?”
“You look like a squirrel.” She giggles again.
“Why a squirrel? I don’t sit like this?” I hold my arms in front of me, elbows bent, and let my hands dangle.
“You’re doing it now!” She cackles with more laughter.
“Fine. If I’m a squirrel, then your chipmunk.”
“I’m not a chipmunk.” She bursts out laughing again.
“Yes. You are. Your cheeks are like this.” I fill my cheeks with air as if I was a chipmunk hoarding acorns. “Alright, Chipmunk. Are you finished?” Her cheeks puff out and she nods. I chuckle. This kid is my new favorite.
I collect our plates and quickly wash them. Afterward, I close all the takeout containers and place them in the fridge. When I turn around, Abby’s gone. Immediately, my gaze jerks to the front door. Still closed. Rustling and banging sounds come from down the hall followed by the patter of footsteps.
“Want to do crafts with me?” She holds out a box filled to the brim with paper, markers, and paints.
“Uh. Sure. What are we doing?”
She sets the box on the counter and climbs up to sit on the stool. “I got all these different colored papers to make paper rings and necklaces.” Within five seconds the entire countertop is littered with paper in every color imaginable.
I now understand how kids can make a mess in such a short period of time. “Okay. You’ll have to teach me.”
Abby spends the next hour and a half showing me how to fold the paper perfectly to create a ring. Then how to fold a zig zag to create a necklace or bracelet. By the end, we had a pile of different colored paper jewelry.
“You should give my mom one.” Her big hazel eyes meet mine.
“Which one do you think she’d like?” I point to the pile of paper jewelry.
Her tongue peeks out from the corner of her mouth as she examines each paper item. “This one.” She holds out a purple and green ring.
“A ring. Does your mom like rings?”
She nods. “She has a really pretty one in her jewelry box.”
Shit. Does she still have her wedding ring? With how much dislike she has for Kyle, I can’t imagine she’s keeping it in hopes of reconnecting. What if it’s someone else’s? Like she has a collection of ex-husbands or ex-fiancés.
“Want to play a game?”
Abby’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. “Sure, Chipmunk. What are we playing?”
Her eyes light up with her toothy grin. “Pretty Pretty Princess.”
“Great! I’ve always wanted to be a princess.”