Page 7 of Succeeding Love

Feighlynn

“Perfect!” I smiled as I pulled the lasagna out of the oven. “Absolutely perfect.”

“Who are you talking to?” Preston asked, watching me from the breakfast bar. He’s on his laptop with headphones in. I didn’t know he could hear me talking to myself.

“You,” I said, lifting my chin stubbornly.

“Sounded like you were talking to the food,” he smirked.

“Was not.”

“Was too. You were using your Kevin voice. Praising the noodles for being perfect.”

“Well, look at it.” I angled the pan so that he could see. “It looks perfect, does it not?”

He laughed at me, nodding along. “Yeah, sure. Perfect pasta.”

“I know!” I placed it down merrily, removing my oven mitts with pride.

“No one gets excited about cooking like you do.”

“I only get excited when the food looks this good.”

Preston watched me as I meticulously checked every corner of the piping hot lasagna to ensure it was cooked to perfection on the way through. I couldn’t stop myself from doing a little happy dance at the bubbling cheese. I had already made the garlic bread and salad. I just had to pull the salad out of the fridge and the bread out of the warming drawer to serve.

My excitement died a bit, checking my watch. Jessie should be here with her father any minute.

If he’s eating here, I wonder where Arlene is having dinner. Should I offer to let her come over too?

No. It’s none of my business. I don’t have to go that far for my ex-husband and his new partner. That would just upset Preston, too.

Just then, the doorbell rang. Preston heard it, judging by the sudden frown on his face, but he made no move to answer it.

I sighed loudly. “Be nice,” I whispered after lifting one side of his headphones from his head. “He’s still your dad.”

Preston rolled his eyes, but muttered, “Yep. Got it.” He’s a good kid. He’ll keep his comments to himself, if only for my sake and for the sake of his sister.

After another deep sigh, I put on a smile and opened the front door. But instead of seeing Nick with Jessie, Kevin was standing there. Human Kevin, with a large flower bouquet in his hands.

“Human Kevin?” I said, not meaning to say the ‘human’ part out loud.

“Human Feighlynn,” he chuckled. “Mom wanted me to bring this to you. Happy Birthday.”

“Oh, wow. Tell her thank you for me,” I hurried to take the heavy-looking vase from his hands. My hand accidentally brushed against his, shocking me, almost causing me to drop the arrangement on the tiled surface.

“I got it,” he said, easily catching it. “Where do you want it?”

“Oh, um,” I frantically looked around for somewhere to set it. “How about here?” I motioned to the entry table, moving a pile of mail out of the way.

He set it on the center of the table, turning it to display the ribbon in the middle. “Looks good,” he said, stepping back to admire his work.

“Your mom grows the prettiest flowers.” I smiled at the arrangement. “She’s the sweetest.”

“She has her moments.” He crossed his arms nervously, oblivious that it was making his chest flex and strain against his shirt. Are all military men built like him? “She, uh, shouldn’t have said those things about your personal life, though. I’m sorry about that.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” I waved away his concern. “She wasn’t trying to be malicious.”

“No, but I know how much those kinds of words can sting.”

---