Page 28 of Betting on Lizzie

Lizzie’s head said, “No way,” but her stomach had already sat down and picked up a fork. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t, but I’m starving, and enchiladas are my favorite.”

“Please.” He nodded to the preset table. “Feeding you is the least I can do for the inconvenience.”

She sat while he dished up two plates of enchiladas and Mexican rice. He set the plates down and sat across from her. She dug in immediately.

“Oh, this is good,” she said between bites. “Don’t tell my mom, but Maya could give her a run for her money in the kitchen.”

“This is my mom’s special family recipe. And the extent of Maya’s cooking abilities. I’m sure she’ll expand her repertoire one day, but for now, it’s enchiladas, PB & J’s, grilled cheese, and spaghetti.”

“Sounds familiar,” Lizzie said, glancing at the empty glass in front of her.

“Oh, sorry,” he said. “I’ve got water, wine, or unsweet tea.”

“Wine would be great.”

“Coming up.”

He deftly opened the wine, poured for them both, and set the bottle on the table.

She sipped and wiped her mouth with her napkin. “So, you two always eat so fancy?” The table had been set with a full array of silverware, a pretty tablecloth, and matching cloth napkins.

“No.” He laughed. “I was in the shower and didn’t notice she’d set the table, or I would have suspected something sooner. ’Course, a setup would have been last on my list of possible shenanigans. I would’ve assumed she was buttering me up to ask for something big. I cook during basketball season because she’s so busy with practice, games, and homework. When she’s not playing a sport, we take turns. It’s usually more mac and cheese or chicken and broccoli casserole, eaten at the kitchen bar.”

“Sounds like you guys are a good team.”

“Yeah, well, it’s been us against the world for a long time.”

“Her mom?” Maya had said she wasn’t in the picture, but maybe Ben would elaborate.

He finished chewing, swallowed, and sighed. “Left when Maya was a year old. Haven’t heard from her since.”

“What? Why?” She was dying to know what kind of woman could just up and leave her baby.

“We were very young,” he said. “Eighteen, to be exact. Jenna got pregnant midway through our senior year of high school. Just after Maya’s first birthday, she packed up and left, saying she hadn’t ‘lived’ and was too young to be tied down with a family.”

“Oof. What about you?”

“I’m an old soul. Always have been. Even at eighteen, her immaturity and selfishness bothered me.”

“I thought you seemed a little young to have a teenage daughter.” She did some quick math and figured he must be thirty-five or thirty-six.

“Jenna and I had been together for two years prior to that. I thought we’d graduate, get married, have the baby, and live happily ever after.” He took a drink and chuckled. “We did graduate.”

“So, you’ve raised Maya all by yourself? How?”

“With help from my parents. After Jenna left, my mom would babysit while I went to classes at UT—Tennessee, I’m from Knoxville—and worked a part-time job. I took care of her the rest of the time.”

“Wow,” she said. “That must have been hard. How’d you come to New Bern?”

“It was hard. So hard, that when my dad got transferred here, I followed them. The timing was perfect. I’d just graduated and was job hunting. I hired on at the fire department right about the time my parents moved here. By then, Maya was in school. My mom met her at the bus stop and watched her until I got off work. When I had overnight shifts, Maya spent the night with them. There’s no way I could have done it without their help.”

“So your parents live close?”

“Not anymore. After my dad retired, they moved back to Knoxville. By then, we were settled here, and Maya was old enough to be home alone after school. She had friends and sports and all that. I didn’t want to uproot her, so we stayed. We go to Knoxville for the holidays and stuff. How about you?”

She had no interest in getting chummy with him, but it was better than eating in silence. She poured another glass of wine. “Born and raised in New Bern. Graduated from UNC with a business degree. Came back here and worked at the bar for a summer before buying it from the old owner. Rest is pretty much history.”

“How’s your dad?”

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