Page 77 of Crave Me
“Better half,” I reply with a wink.
She glances over her shoulder just to smirk, the gleam in her eyes curving the corners of my mouth. I want to introduce her as my fiancée. But I haven’t asked, and I won’t until my company is secure and I can give her everything she deserves.
She turns her attention on the little boy. “Hi, Gavin. Is it your birthday today?”
Already he’s enthralled by her, not that I blame him. But it’s the way he seems surprised that anyone noticed him that troubles me.
“He’s a little shy,” his mother says, the admission adding an extra pitch of sadness to her tone.
“I can’t blame him,” Wren says, keeping her focus on Gavin. “You know, when I was your age I was really shy, too.”
“Really?” Clifton asks.
“No. I came out of the womb mouthing off.”
We laugh although it’s the grin spreading across the little Gavin’s face that makes me believe her comment was meant solely for him.
She told me I was kind. I try to be, though it’s an attribute that comes so easily to Wren.
“Oh. I’m so sorry. Here we are standing for no reason,” Susanna says. “Please, come in.”
Gavin stumbles back, the leg of his walker appearing to catch between the doorway and the steps. I hurry forward when Clifton has trouble pulling it lose.
“Careful, honey,” Susanna says, placing her hand on Gavin’s shoulder to steady him. “You don’t want to bend the end.”
“Want to come in with me, buddy?” Wren asks, extending her arms.
The boy briefly hesitates, lifting his hands and allowing Wren to gather him into her arms. “Ever hear of Jack and the Beanstalk?”
I don’t hear the little boy respond, only Wren as she disappears into the house with him. “Well, let me tell you the O’Brien version also known as ‘Angus gets caught eating the pie for the church social by Ma, the not so big but scary, giant.’ I have to warn you, it doesn’t end well for Angus.’”
Clifton and I laugh as we pull the walker free from the crack. I straighten to see Susanna smiling. “She’s really great,” she says, turning to me. “Do you have kids?”
“Not yet,” I answer over Clifton’s explanation that we’re not married.
My reply gives Clifton pause, though it doesn’t last. “I figured you guys were serious.”
I’m mad about her, if I’m being honest. Not that I tell him.
“I’m glad you came, Evan,” he says. “Do you want a beer?”
“Yes, thank you,” I reply, reaching for the gift Wren left behind.
He leads me into a living room, decorated with paper streamers and a hand painted sign that says, “Happy Birthday, Gavin.”
I follow him into a kitchen just large enough for a table and chairs and place the gift on the counter. The house is exceptionally small, one small room appearing to lead into another. Clifton is paid well. I question why he wouldn’t purchase a larger home with an open floor plan to better fit his son’s needs.
“Is something wrong?” he asks.
“Not at all,” I reply. I take the beer he hands me, glancing around. “You have a lovely home.”
“Thank you.” He pops open the beer he takes for himself. “I’d like something bigger, but Gavin has a rare genetic condition. It affects his muscles and his lungs. He, uh, requires a lot of care that extends past what our insurance offers—not that you don’t offer good insurance,” he adds quickly. “It’s one of the many reasons I work for iCronos.”
I watch him take a pull of his beer. “Is your salary enough to cover his needs?”
“You pay me well, Evan,” he replies, choosing his words carefully. “Gavin just has a lot of issues.”
Which is why Clifton’s suits are so outdated and his house is so small. Everything he makes goes to his son’s care.