Page 73 of Because of Blake
I scoff. “Do you really think we can sleep next to each other and keep it PG?”
“Probably not, but if that’s what it takes to be with you, then I’ll do my best to only think about old men in Speedos.”
The laugh escaping me is loud and sharp, but genuine.
“Maggie, you know I’m not going to push you to do something you’re not comfortable with, but I miss our nights together, too. Think about it, okay?”
Blake shows up on my doorstep Thanksgiving morning with all the supplies I told him to bring, which was the turkey. The kids haven’t had an actual Thanksgiving turkey since Charlie died. Being a vegetarian, I don’t know the first thing about cooking one, so I made sure Blake did. I’m in charge of everything else.
This is the first time Blake has set foot in my house in weeks. Since our conversation when Sydney was sick, it’s been nothing but a barrage of cockblocking events day in and day out. Sydney was not only sick for a week, but she was kind enough to share it with Dylan, who was then also sick for a week. Then, Sydney decided to join the school play, which meant tryouts and rehearsals, and when I had to pick up a couple extra days in the office to help with a huge case, all my time was taken.
Poor Blake was left on the sidelines, but he never complained.
“Where should I put this?” he asks, holding up the turkey.
“We might as well get it started so it can cook all the way.” After I kiss him hello, I wave him onward into the kitchen.
Dylan sits at the table, slurping the milk from his cereal out of the bowl. He wipes his face with his pajama sleeve and turns to Blake, a wide grin spreading across Dylan’s face. “Hi, Mr. Blake!” He jumps up from the table and wraps his arms around Blake’s middle.
Blake lifts the turkey up to keep Dylan from bashing his head into it. “Hey, Buddy. How’s it going? Are you up early to help with the food?”
Dylan pulls back, looking up at Blake with confusion on his face.
I chuckle. “No, Dylan has already called dibs on the basement.”
“Yeah, I’m so close to beating this awesome skateboarding game. I’ve unlocked almost every secret! Wanna come see?”
“Well, I promised your mom I’d help her cook.” Blake leans down, acting like he’s going to whisper, but he doesn’t. “But maybe later, I’ll sneak away and we can play some, okay?”
“Deal,” Dylan whispers, high-fiving Blake and running off to the basement.
With a laugh, Blake stands up and hands me the turkey.
I arch my eyebrows. “You’re crazy if you think you’re getting out of this.”
“Had to try.” He shrugs. “So, what’s first?”
Blake and I prep all the food. We whip it out in no time, but decide to make another pot of coffee to be sure we can last until dinner. I take a sip, leaning my back against the counter. As Blake and I eye each other over the rims of our coffee mugs, I can’t help but smile.
“What?” he asks, arching an eyebrow.
“I was just thinking about how long that beard has stuck around.”
With a smirk, he brushes his fingers along his jaw. “Well, someone said they like it, even though she giggles every time I kiss her.”
“Not every time.” I take a much bigger sip of my coffee, savoring it as I eye the mess on the counter. “Food prepping is a lot more work than I remember it being.”
“Well, it’s all done. Now, all we have to do is wait for the turkey to finish.”
“I still have to make pies.”
“Ooh, that’s my favorite part. Not making them, but eating them.” Blake smacks his lips.
“Well, in order to get some, you’ve got to get your hands dirty.”
Blake’s eyes flash, darkening as they lock onto mine. “I don’t mind getting dirty with you.”
I blush and smack the back of my hand on his chest. “PG, mister.” I set my coffee down and pull out my cookbook. “I have the stuff to make a pecan pie and a sweet potato.”