Page 19 of Love… It's Messy
“No. Not true,” she argues. “The sky isn’t fully dark yet. Luke wants to play tea party.”
“He was just being nice. Grown men don’t play tea.”
“Not true.” He leans down toward Ainsley with his hands on his knees and meets her eyes. “When I was little, my big sister made me play with her every day. I didn’t get to play with dinosaurs and monster trucks, like most boys. I was usually playing house.”
She giggles. “Were you the daddy?”
“I was the baby. Every time. My sister pretended to change my diaper and feed me bottles until I was at least four years old. Then, we graduated to supermarket and diner. I made an excellent cook.”
She claps her hands together and widens her eyes. “You’re going to love my playroom!”
With her small hand in his large one, Ainsley drags Luke into the house, and I suddenly have an empty feeling in the pit of my stomach.
I wipe my sweaty hands on my pants, then carry the ice bucket into the kitchen and place it on the counter before moving quickly down the hall to the playroom.
They’ve each taken a seat at the play table. On Luke’s lap is the elephant that usually occupies the seat. There are only two chairs, so I settle on my knees, which keeps them from bouncing.
Ainsley pours the tea.
Luke eyes her with interest. “How old are you, Ainsley?”
“Four. How old are you?”
“Would you believe me if I said I was twenty?”
“No. You’re old, like my mom. I’d say forty. If you want to date Tara, you need to muster-eyes. She likes pretty boys.”
“Moisturize,” I interpret for Luke.
His hands clench an invisible dagger in his chest, and he makes a show of pulling it out of his heart. “Damn, I’m gonna have to up my game. Here I thought, I was doing pretty well for thirty-two.”
“You’re too young to be talking to Tara about pretty boys.” I blanch at her.
Ainsley pauses mid–tea pour to give me the stare-down. “Mom, I am a lady. Me and Tara … we have A and B conversations. You can C your way out of it.”
“That’s not kind. A real lady doesn’t talk to her mother like that,” I scold.
“Sorry, Mommy.” Her bottom lip puffs out as she looks down with her shoulders sinking.
Sensing the energy in the room has shifted, Luke holds his cup up and takes a pretend sip. “This is delicious. And it’s such a cool color.”
Ainsley perks up. “It’s blue. I used magical blueberries when I made it,” she replies matter-of-factly regarding the invisible tea.
He takes another sip and offers some to the elephant. “Looks like my cup is empty. Can I have more?”
“Why, yes, sir. Please hold.” Ainsley scurries to her play kitchen and pretends to boil another cup of tea.
As we wait, Luke looks around the playroom. His long legs are bent with his knees practically at his chin while his elbows try to find a comfortable spot on the table.
While those dark, daring eyes flicker around the room, I take the opportunity to appraise him.
He’s still so very handsome with his wide-jawline bone structure. Today, he’s sporting a very light scruff, making him look manly and rugged. At this small child’s table, the bold exterior of the man looks extra absurd yet absolutely adorable.
“Your place is nice,” he comments.
“Thank you. Been here a few years. Ainsley and I needed the space.”
“Your apartment would never have held all this stuff.” He gestures around the playroom, and I flinch.