Page 21 of Gifts

“I want to get to the good stuff. Eating together. Spending time with our kids together. If I have to, I’ll even fucking help you paint. Then if all that goes okay, we can get to the really good stuff.”

Her frown deepens. “And what would that be?”

I narrow my eyes. “When I get to wash the paint from your hair.”

Her eyes go big.

I lower my voice even more. “And then the rest of you.”

“Oh, fuck,” she mutters, a blush spreading across her face.

“I’m looking forward to that, too,” I add.

“I can’t believe you just said that. We’ve only had dinner—with our kids.”

“I like everything I see and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know you do, too,” I point out.

She’s taken aback by my directness and argues, “That sounds like dating.”

“It’s not dating.”

She leans forward and narrows her eyes—her voice laced with a sharp edge. “What is it then, Asa?”

I lean in and we’re as close as we’ve been all night. “You date someone to figure out what you want. I know what I want and I think you do, too. It’s the gift of life, Keelie. We just need to embrace it.”

Her face falls right when we hear Knox at our sides. “Thanks for the game money, Mr. Hollingsworth.”

Keelie and I both lean back at the same time and I look to her son. “No problem. And no need for formalities. You can call me Asa.”

“Sweet. Thanks, Asa.”

“I’m going to the restroom,” Keelie announces and grabs her purse. “We’re leaving when I get back.”

I watch her escape to the hall leading toward the back of the restaurant as Knox slides into her seat across from me.

“You get enough to eat?” I ask.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“Good. What grade are you in, Knox?” He’s well-spoken, even seems a little too serious for his age.

“Third.”

I watch him pick up Keelie’s phone, unlock it, and start messing with the screen. I wonder when I can see Keelie alone and decide to find out what I can from her son. “When do you and Saylor spend time with your dad?”

“We don’t.” Knox shakes his head and without looking up, says like he’s explained it a thousand times, “My dad’s dead.”

I freeze at his words, staring at the little boy sitting across from me. When I look over, Keelie is herding Saylor away from the claw machine in a hurry.

Well, fuck.

*****

Keelie

Asa sets his empty beer bottle down on the patio next to his Adirondack. I had no choice but to offer him a drink when we got back from dinner since my kids felt the need to torture me by orchestrating further together-time.

Asa insisted on driving to dinner, but we didn’t all fit in his truck, especially with Saylor’s booster seat, and I never allow her to go without. I told him we’d just meet him there. He pointed out that we’d all fit in my car. That’s when he confiscated my keys and drove us all in my minivan.

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