17. More Questions Than Answers
Chapter seventeen
More Questions Than Answers
Maria
Five days later...
Working for Edward is much easier than I originally thought it would be.
Even with a new child in his life, given up by his mother (as he’d explained to me), I thought there would be a lot more baggage there.
But from how he explained it, it was all amicable and Alexander also seems pretty well-adjusted.
Well, except for getting him to eat his vegetables, of course.
“Come on, Alex. I know it’s yucky, but I just need you to eat one piece of broccoli. That’s it.” I drag a kitchen chair closer so that my knees are no longer suffering from squatting for so long.
The little boy stares at his plate, his bottom lip sticking out as he shoves the piece of green around on his plate with his plastic fork.
“I don’t like it.”
“I know, but... Okay, how about this?” I gesture for him to wait one moment and retrieve a small jar of queso out of the fridge. I quickly spoon a dollop into a bowl, heat it up in the microwave for a few seconds, and present him with the entirely-too-orange bowl of melted cheese.
“Maybe this will make it taste a little better?” I pluck a piece of broccoli off his plate and dunk it into the queso before popping it into my mouth.
“Mmmm, so tasty! You want to give it a try?”
He gives me a skeptical look before he gingerly dips the tip of the broccoli into the cheese. Almost in slow motion, I watch his little fingers bring the offending vegetable to his lips, my heart skipping a beat when he takes the tiniest of nibbles.
“What do you think...?”
A small, shy smile tugs on the corners of his lips before he shoves the broccoli in again.
Whew. That’s one way of doing it.
I check my watch; just in time, too. Edward should be home soon and I don’t want to have to explain why Alexander’s plate is still full of broccoli.
Maybe over time, I can wean him away from the cheese.
“Once you’re done with that piece, do you wanna get changed before your dad gets home so he can read you a story?”
“But my plate’s still full,” he whines.
“You want to eat all the broccoli?!” I turn slowly in disbelief. I can’t believe what I’ve just heard.
“Yuh huh.”
There he goes, covering another piece of broccoli with warm cheese before he pops the whole thing into his mouth. A little dribble of queso sticks to the corner of his mouth and starts running down his chin.
This is going better than I expected.
I bolt upright and out of my victory when I hear the locked door being undone.
The same pattern follows: shoes kicked off, jangling keys being tossed into a catch-all, and his briefcase dropped on the ground.
Even for the few days I’ve been working here, I’ve already learned the familiar tune of Edward coming home.
I don't know what it is about him, but every morning when I arrive and every evening when he returns from work, there's a warmth that stirs in my stomach, a little ball of nerves that makes my skin dance.
Giddiness? Maybe because of the way he is with his son?
Not many guys would step up to the plate like he had when presented with a four-year-old they didn't know they had.
Or maybe it's the fact that he's a doctor why he's so accepting of it. He can afford it (given how much he's paying me), but still takes the time out of his day to make sure his son is okay. He genuinely seems to care, and I know it sounds bad, but it's actually a breath of fresh air.
“Your son wants to finish his whole plate of broccoli tonight.” I fold my arms, beaming with pride. “I’ve achieved the impossible.”
“Have you?” Edward’s eyes light up as he strolls deeper into the apartment on socked feet, shedding his jacket in the process.
“Is that true, bud? Enjoying your broccoli?”
“Mm hm! Look!”
Edward pauses and glances at me over his shoulder.
“Don’t you think the melted cheese is a little... cheating?”
“He’s eating his vegetables, isn’t he?”
“Yeah, smothered in cheese. And I don’t think you’re going to be the one to deal with his constipation later.”
“Not with the broccoli, he won’t.” I look down my nose at him; how dare he belittle my victory!
“Fine. I guess you win this one. Get your dinner finished up and get changed, okay?”
“Then I get my story?” Alex mumbles around a mouthful of food.
“Huh? Oh, yeah, then you’ll get your story.” Edward flops onto the couch and leans his head back over the top of it, letting out a loud groan that practically deflates his body.
“Hard day?” I ask, watching Alex work on the last bite.
“More than you know. My back is killing me.”
“After his story, maybe I can help with that.”
That seems to perk him up a little and I feel my cheeks warm.
“Not like that. I mean a back massage. I used to... for Benjamin, and...”
“Not if it’s going to bring up bad memories, Maria. It’s fine, thank you.” Edward dismisses my suggestion with a kind smile. I know that he’s just trying to look out for me, but I don’t need to be treated with kid gloves. I’m not some delicate thing that needs to be protected from my own emotions.
I refocus my attention on Alex and scoop him up as soon as he’s done, carrying him into his room to help him pick out his PJs. He settles on a new pair covered in little crocodiles, but insists that he can change himself.
“Okay!” I back off, amused. “But I’ll be right outside if you need any help, okay?”
“I got this.” He lays out the long-sleeved shirt and the pants on the bed. I can see his little brain turning the gears as he tries to figure out the logistics of how this is going to work.
"That little guy of yours..." I chuckle under my breath as I close the door behind me. But when I glance at the couch, I see that Edward's already asleep, his eyes closed and a soft snore escaping his open mouth.
I smother my chuckles as I tip-toe over to the couch and try to shift Edward into a lying position on the couch.
Looks like Alex might not get his story after all. I guess I could take over, just for tonight.
But Edward falls faster than I expected and his ankle catches the back of my knee, tugging me off-balance and almost onto him. I manage to catch myself in time with my hands on the armrest before I land on him, thankfully.
"What... what are you doing?" He stares up at me with bleary eyes, confused.
"I was trying to help you lie down. You fell asleep."
"Did I?" He drags his hands down his face and inhales deeply. "Sorry about that."
There's that fluttering in my belly again. This close and I can see the speckles of lighter brown scattered in his dark irises. Almost like a kaleidoscope.
"Maria...? You're... you're staring."
"I..." It wouldn't take much, would it? To lower myself those few inches and see why he makes me feel safe. Why I feel like I belong here.
I put no more thought into it and lower myself to him, my lips gracing his in a kiss so soft, I barely feel it. My mind spins with a thousand thoughts, and a hundred more questions as to whether I'm doing the right thing.
In what feels like forever, I finally open my eyes to measure the results of my risk.
He's going to fire me on the spot, isn't he?
I'm surprised to see his surprise, a warmth washing over his cheeks and his mouth still pursed from the kiss.
"Uh... I shouldn't have done that. Sorry, I just..." I start to pull away, but his hands capture the back of my neck and drag me back to the couch.
"I thought you and Drake were..." he whispers, his eyes roaming down to my lips.
"Drake...?" Why is he bringing him up now?
"He saw you first, didn't he? You almost..."
I press a hand to Edward's mouth. I don't want him to finish that sentence.
"This isn't some kind of race, and I'm not some prize to be won." My brows furrow slightly. "Is that why you've been so... standoffish? Because you think Drake had claims to me first?"
"I... uh... when you put it that way, it sounds bad, doesn't it?" He sighs and his hands fall away from my neck. How I wish he'd put them back.
"I've ruined the moment, haven't I?"
"No, actually. Now I know where we stand with each other." I let myself up and take a seat on the far edge of the couch. "You have story time with your son, and then he'll be in bed." I turn the TV on but I stare at him out of the corners of my eyes, hoping he'll get the hint.
"Okay...?"
"And I don't have to rush home. We can 'talk'."
The curtain of confusion continues to blanket his face before the nugget of understanding changes his features, a quiet "oh!" escaping him.
"For someone so smart, you seem to be a little slow," I jest.
A week later...
His heated breaths prickle against my skin, stealing me from the world that exists outside that door.
His hands are more than capable of holding me in place as he works himself deeper into me, his hips working to fulfill every inch of my inner walls.
Our eyes are locked together as we ride each other out, a sheen of sweat covering us both in the early hours of the morning before Alexander needs to be roused from his bed.
A twitch of his brow. His lips part for a brief second.
I slip off of him and finish him with my hands, blinking with surprise when he finally erupts onto himself.
I use his fluids mixed with mine to lube his length and continue rubbing him out until he’s completely empty.
I smile when I see his fingers coiled into the sheets, his head reared back as he rides out the waves of pleasure, making his entire body go rigid.
“Damn... damn that was good.”
“Mmm.” I hum under my breath and rest my head against his hip, smiling at his pink bobbing head as he leaks the last of his loins onto his stomach.
“And you’re messy.” I roll myself out of bed and head into the bathroom to wash my hands in the sink.
“What? I can’t be a gentleman about everything,” he calls from the bed. “I thought you liked things a little wild and messy.”
“Not like this.”