21. Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-One
Kat
Iwas seated again, somehow having managed to ignore or just not hear any comments lobbed from across the trenches—cough, table, cough—or from my neighbor next door.
It might’ve had something to do with the chaperone on my other side, now paying attention to this half of the table.
Who also had his arm on the back of my chair, probably thinking that I hadn’t noticed.
I had.
His parents had.
His sister had.
I took a deep breath, reaching for my water. I really wished I had accepted a glass of wine, now, but it was far too late for that. Before I could put it down, I felt little hands on my thigh.
Quickly putting my water back on the table, I looked down to see tiny little William attempting to climb me.
And failing. I snagged him before he could fall, wincing at the pull in my shoulder and the ache in my right hand at the solid three-year-old in my arms. There was a certain mismatch in weight to size in children before the age of five.
A small squeak from me was drowned out by the happy chanting of ‘Mika!’ coming from said three-year-old.
I just about had him settled, only having been thwarted by his constant wiggling, when two big hands grabbed him and plopped him down sitting in my lap. I looked up, slightly indignant. I had it. I didn’t need help. I wasn’t going to let William get hurt. I felt tears swelling under my lower lids.
“I had him,” I insisted. He nodded, not removing his hands.
“I know, Kat,” he said quietly. A single tear slipped down my cheek. Fuck.
“I wouldn’t have let him fall,” I said quietly, looking down at the happy, squirmy toddler.
“I know, Kat,” he insisted back to me. I looked up at him, since he still hadn’t moved his hands. He did slowly at my look, lifting them in surrender. And then he placed his arm on the back of my chair, framing us again. He’d moved closer, somehow. He was good at that. Sneaky bastard.
I didn’t snap at him, though. Because the look in his eyes told me that he did, in fact, know I wouldn’t let William fall. Even if it hurt me. Maybe I’d at least proven that. To some people. I sniffed back any other tears that might’ve tried to leak out. And I focused on William.
I ate around the toddler, who seemed disinclined to be removed from my lap. Henry was helping me feed William so I could eat as well. Luckily, he was eating chicken tenders. It made things easier.
I had recently decided that William was my favorite human on the planet, because he was allowing me to not interact with a single adult that hated me. He was a sweet baby angel. A second favorite emerged, though, when Amelia wandered over, looking a little shy.
Henry’s brother’s oldest daughter leaned in, whispering in Henry’s ear. He smiled at the tiny six-year-old.
“Of course you can ask her, love,” he said gently, pushing her toward me. I smiled brightly at her, hoping to ease her shyness a little. It worked. I got a toothy grin back, with a few prominent ones missing, of course.
“Did you have a question?” I prompted gently when she just stood there staring at me. She nodded.
“Did you really race karts when you were little like me? ‘Cause my brother and his friends said that girls can’t but I think they can,” she said in a defiant, stubborn little tone. That made me smile even wider.
“I did. Little girls are capable of doing anything little boys can do,” I confirmed, matching her serious tone. William’s crumby little hand ended up in my hair just as Amelia’s older brother came over to join the conversation.
“No, that’s not true. Just go back to ballet and leave the boy things to the boys!
” he said in all of his seven-year-old wisdom.
I could feel Henry watching me, Becca too, I thought, to see how I’d handle this.
I smiled warmly at him, too. Things were very simple to kids at that age.
I had dealt with kids just like him when I was little.
Usually with my fists. But I wouldn’t recommend that to Amelia. I’d be tossed from the dinner for sure.
“Little girls can absolutely race karts. Just like little boys can do ballet. I raced karts all the way up through racing real cars, until I was sixteen,” I said solemnly, knowing that the big wide eyes of both children were actually paying attention.
I nodded, feeling that William was still hanging on for dear life to my hair.
“Why did you stop?” Teddy asked, letting the argument go for now in favor of asking me obvious follow up questions that I really should’ve seen coming and didn’t. I sighed.
“Well, that’s the other part of this. Racing can be dangerous, especially as you get older and the cars get faster.
So, it’s not just for you to decide. You make that decision with your family.
And my family and I decided it was time to stop racing when I was sixteen.
I went to school instead,” I decided on.
That was all true enough, and probably got me out of hot water with their parents.
The last thing I needed was to be blamed for putting ideas of karting into Amelia’s head if her parents didn’t want her to race.
I was sure they’d seen enough of Henry’s crashes to probably not want her anywhere near them.
Both Amelia and Teddy were nodding solemnly at what I had said, almost to the point of making me laugh. Then Teddy grinned.
“If I let you take my kart out, can I come to one of your ballet classes?” he asked Amelia excitedly.
I hadn’t expected that one bit, but that seemed to have worked.
She nodded excitedly and the two of them ran off to go play in the kid’s corner the restaurant had set up.
I could still feel eyes on me, so I looked down at William and bounced him on my knee, making him giggle.
Dinner was over. Now I just needed to snuggle a warm three-year-old through dessert and I would be free.
Too bad William abandoned me in favor of his cousins. I looked up after carefully helping him get down.
I was met with two glares and an approving look from across the table. Wow, what a range.
I didn’t look at Henry.