“Glad you’re here.” I smile and gesture to Tab sitting in her car seat in the back. “This is Tabatha. Tab, this is my friend Delia.”
“Hi,” Tab says, looking shy.
“Hi, Tab,” Delia says. “I like your shoes. Very cute.”
Tab smiles then looks out the window.
“Okay, good start.” I smile and head down the road again. My driveway appears and I turn down, taking the gravel slow.
We pull up to the cabin and Delia climbs out. I get out next and help Tab. Once she’s on the ground, she scurries off, running for the house.
I smile and watch her go. Delia stands next to me. “She’s cute,” she says.
“Thanks. She’s a handful. Getting to be that age, you know?”
“No, I have no clue. I don’t know anything about kids.”
“They’re not too complicated. She runs around, yells at me, wants to play, wants to eat, the usual stuff.”
“Oh, right. Simple. Kids are so easy.”
I laugh and put my arm around her. She leans against me like it’s no big deal. I don’t even think about it. “No, kids are definitely not easy. But you get used to them at least.”
We walk up the steps and I open the door. Tab runs inside. “Play puzzle,” she says, grabbing her floor puzzle and dumping it out.
“That’s cool,” Delia says. “Can I play?”
Tab nods, not paying attention to her.
“I need to get changed really quick,” I say. “Then I’ll get started on dinner.”
“Sounds good.” Delia kneels down with Tab. “Can you show me how you put it together?”
Tab nods and starts pulling pieces out, throwing them around, and trying to make them fit. I linger for a second before hurrying back to my room. I change into jeans and a denim shirt as fast as I can. When I get back, Tab is laughing as Delia pretends to struggle with getting the pieces together.
“Dada!” Tab runs over. “Please. Puzzle, please.”
“Okay, sweets,” I say, going over.
Delia smiles at me and we play with the puzzle for a few minutes.
“Okay, Tab,” I say. “You need to play alone now. Can you do that for daddy? While I cook you dinner?”
She doesn’t answer. I grab Delia’s hand and help her up. We go over into the kitchen and I open a bottle of wine. I pour her a glass and one for myself. I can feel an eye on Tab while she messes with the puzzle.
“Gotta get her food together first,” I say. “I have it all prepped already.”
“Really? You meal prep?”
“Just for her. It helps a lot at dinnertime.” I get out a premade meal and put it in the microwave. “She eats the same thing all the time and rebels when I try to mix it up. It’s a battle.”
“Good for you for even trying.”
“Yeah, well, I have to. Nobody else will.”
She sips her wine and watches me. I prep meals for Tab every three days so they don’t sit too long. I could probably push them a little longer but I don’t like to do it. When her food’s hot, I call her out. She gets into her chair at the table and starts to eat.
“Thanks, sweets,” I say, kissing her head, happy she’s playing along tonight. Most nights, dinner is a fight.
I get cooking. “Just something simple,” I tell Delia. “If you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind at all.”
“Pasta, sausage, broccoli rabe, and chicken stock.”
“Sounds great.”
I shrug. “It’s like the first meal I learned to make when I started cooking on my own.”
“I can’t cook,” she admits. “Wish I could. Just can’t.”
“You ever try? And be honest.”
“Well… no, not really.”
“That’s the thing. It’s really not too hard, you just have to try and fail a whole bunch.”
“Story of my life.” She sips her wine.
“So what happened?” I turn to her and cock my head, wooden spoon in my hand, sausage sizzling away. “I’m curious.”
“It’s a lame story.”
“But it’s important to you, so tell it.”
“Fine.” She takes a breath. “I’m from a rich family, right? I mean, I won’t pretend, we’re stupidly wealthy. I wanted to do something for myself, so I came up with this fashion line. I took out a loan, I found store space… and I did it.”
“Wow.” I raise an eyebrow. “That’s impressive.”
“Yeah, well, it failed. I did okay the first couple years, but then things took a turn. I don’t know what happened anymore. I had to sell off all my inventory at a loss and move on.”
“I’m sorry. When did that happen?”
“A few weeks ago.” She laughs and I’m surprised at the bitterness. “So it’s still fresh.”
“I’m sorry,” he says again. “That’s hard. You did something most people can’t do, though.”
“Really? I don’t know. I had some advantages. I mean, most people couldn’t just walk into a bank and get a loan like I did. It only worked because my name is Lofthouse.”