Page 151 of Mr. Infuriating

But what a way to go.

I did make myself useful and set the table while she carefully cut Jake’s piece of chicken into small, bite-sized cubes. She did the same with his green beans, before putting a dollop of mashed potatoes on his plate.

“Jake, baby, come wash your hands. It’s time to eat.”

I expected stalling and bargaining for five more minutes, like my kids had a tendency to do when they were playing videogames, but he just set the tablet on the cushion next to him then slid off the couch without argument.

She turned the faucet on and lifted him up so he could wash his hands at the kitchen sink.

Note to self: buy a step stool tomorrow.

Actually, I should probably buy two so there was one in the bathroom, as well.

I gave myself an internal shake.

They’re only staying until Thursday!

Okay, Friday, tops, if Henry needed to order a part. Although shipping times varied so I guess it could be Monday, maybe Tuesday.

I decided another week warranted the purchase of stools. I’d pick two up at the hardware store tomorrow.

Gretchen got Jake situated at the table, and I brought him his plate.

“Doesn’t this look good, buddy? Your mama is a good cook!”

Jake popped a piece of chicken in his mouth and dramatically nodded while he attempted to put potatoes on his toddler spoon. I looked over at Gretchen when I continued. “She’s spoiling me with all these home-cooked meals. I usually have to pick up my dinner.”

She set the serving bowls with the side dishes on the table then picked up the platter of chicken. A far cry from when I made the kids dinner and just served everything out of the pots and pans.

“I don’t know why you eat out so much. You have a perfectly stocked pantry and freezer,” she scolded as she set the chicken on the table.

“You said it yourself; cooking for one is no fun.”

“Yes but paying to eat out all the time has got to get expensive.”

I watched confused when she picked up my plate and scooped mashed potatoes onto it. I realized what she was doing and before she could fork a piece of chicken, I took the dish out of her hands.

“You don’t have to serve me.” I nodded to the place setting in front of her. “Make your plate.”

She looked surprised but did as I suggested while I continued the conversation and scooped green beans on my dish, then did the same for her.

“I figure with the time I save not cooking, I can stay at work longer, so it evens outs.” I tapped my temple. “Guy math.”

That made her burst out laughing. God, I loved that sound and was willing to do whatever it took to hear it as often as I could.

Well, except give her the one thing she wanted most.

A baby.

But that wasn’t something I was going to worry about tonight.

Chapter Sixty-One

Gretchen

Gabe offered Jake pudding for dessert, so once again, my son went directly from the kitchen table to the bathtub. And, probably because Brittany wasn’t here, he decided to streak through the house naked, screeching, “Nakey time!” as he did.

“Good heavens,” Gabe declared as Jake ran into the kitchen ahead of me. “It’s a streaker! Gretchen! Keep Jake in the bathtub! The naked boy is here, again!”

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