Page 43 of Waiting for Redemption

I smile at the thought and am overwhelmed with gratitude at the way Tank showed up for me…forustoday. This may have been the first time I haven’t had to actively stop myself from thinking about the kiss we shared at the concert the other night, but as I walk in the house and see Tank standing at the stove while Hendrix sits on the counter next to him, he’s suddenlyallI can think about.

“Mommy!” Hendrix yells as he grabs Tank’s arm for support while climbing down from the counter.

“Hey bud! How was your day today?” I ask, bending down and bracing myself for the impact of his running hug.

“It. Was. The. BEST!” he squeals, his dimple on full display as he smiles at me.

“I am so glad you had a great day. I’m really sorry I couldn’t pick you up today,” I apologize, feeling that twinge of mom guilt seep in. No matter who shows up for him on days like today, I always hate when it can’t be me.

“It’s okay, Mommy. Tank took me to the park and we played soccer, then we went to Spurs and I got to havetwomilkshakes…” I cut my eyes over to Tank as he turns the burner off and moves the pan he’s using to the back burner.

“Whoa, hold on. Don’t go getting me in trouble now,” he says, lifting his hands in surrender. “You gotonemilkshake, I just let you dip a few fries in mine,” he explains, glancing back over at me. “They’re not the same dipped in strawberry.”

“That sounds like averyfun day.” I smile at Hendrix who lets out a huge yawn. “You getting sleepy?” I ask, brushing his dark hair away from his eyes.

“Yeah. Will you scratch my back on the couch?” He pulls my arm in an effort to drag me to the living room.

“Sure, buddy. Why don’t you go get your comfy clothes so I can talk to Tank for a minute?”

“Okay!” he shouts, taking off down the hallway towards his room. I stand back up and it’s only then that I realize, Tank didn’t just cook, he cleaned too. My house is absolutely spotless. Not a spare toy or sock lying around anywhere. He even has a candle burning in the living room making the scent of cherry blossom mix with whatever that delicious smell is coming from the kitchen.

“Hey,” he says, sliding his hands into the front pockets of his blue jeans in an almost bashful way. And dammit if it isn't working for him. He’s wearing a simple white T-shirt and blue jeans with a gray ball cap and running shoes and I could literally stare at him for the rest of my life and never get bored.

“Hey,” I say, sounding as exhausted as I’msureI look right now. When I realize he seems a little more awkward than usual I realize we haven’t really talked since the concert. “Did you not get full at Spur’s?” I tease, nodding to the stove.

“Um, no. I couldn’t eat another bite if someone paid me to. That’s for you.”

“You made me dinner?” I ask, with a shocked expression.

“Yeah.”

“And you cleaned my house?”

“I did.”

“After you had to buy a booster seat and pick my kid up from school, took him to play soccer for a fewhours,and then fed him his favorite food, you came here and cleaned my house and cooked me dinner?”

“That is correct. Excellent recount.” He smirks.

“But… why?” I ask, genuinely confused.

“Why not?” He shrugs.

“Because it’s not your responsibility,” I say, dropping my bag on the counter. “You could have said no, or told me you didn’t have a seat. You could have taken him to the bar after picking him up, or you could have brought him here and sat on the couch watching cartoons until I got home and then bailed. But…”

“But?” he presses.

“But you did all ofthis.” I laugh, waving my hands around my house. “You went andboughthim a car seat. You took him to do his favorite things, you cleaned my house. You even lit my favorite candle and I amverycurious to know what’s on the stove.” At this point, I’m rambling and repeating myself so much I can’t believe he’s still here listening. But alas, here he stands. Arms crossed over his chest, looking like a mountain I’d love to climb, listening to me go on and on about all the things I’m sure he’s well aware he did.

“Look… If I overstepped,” he says, his features mirroring the sincerity in his voice. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to help. It seemed like you had a long day and I just didn’t want you to come home and feel like there was more work to be done.”

Speechless. I’m rendered speechless.

I stand here blinking at him like an idiot because I actually have no words. He didn’t overstep—at least not in my opinion. He helped me more today than anyone else ever has, besides maybe Betty, but he did all of this without me even asking. He went above and beyond because hewanted to.

“I’ll go.” He nods. “Umm. That’s stir-fry on the stove. If you don’t like it you can just toss it.” He goes to step around me but my hand wraps around his forearm, stopping him before he gets too far.

“You didn’t overstep,” I assure him, as my eyes begin to water. “I’m not used to people showing up for me the way you did today. I think I’m just having a hard time processing it all,” I admit, rolling my eyes in annoyance as a rogue tear streams down my cheek. He turns to face me completely and wipes the tear away with the pad of his thumb.

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