Page 55 of Single Teddy
Thankfully, Teddy wasn’t given a chance to respond because Bear jumped to his feet, ran from the coffee table to me, and wrapped his arms around my legs.
“Mr. Crawford!” he exclaimed, and not gonna lie, that just about melted my heart.
“Hello, Bear, sweetheart. It’s so good to see you with that smile on your face. How are you settling in?”
Bear cocked his head and narrowed his eyes in confusion. After I explained what settling in meant, he dragged me to the coffee table where he’d been drawing and showed me all his sketches.
“Those are fantastic, Bear. Well done.” And it wasn’t even a lie.
For a seven-year-old, he was awfully skilled, and unlike other kids, he didn’t always draw houses, skies, and stick figures. Heconstantly challenged himself in drawing all sorts of things—elephants, tigers, fruit, the whole lot. Anything he learned in class became inspiration for his art. Which was great to see because it meant he was absorbing all the information in his own creative way.
“What is that?” he asked after the initial rush of excitement passed. He looked down at my hands.
“Oh, I was just out in my garden this morning and found some delicious beach plums, so I made you guys a pie.”
“Yeah! Pie! I want pie with ice cream,” Bear screamed, and I was taken aback.
Not from the screaming, but from his demand for food that wasn’t nuggets or pizza.
“You shouldn’t have,” Teddy said, and as I turned to him, I noticed a box next to the couch full of wool and knitting needles.
“Do you knit?” I asked, and Teddy seemed confused for a second before he spotted the box too.
“Oh that? It’s from the old tenant. I was trying to decide what to do with it.”
“There’s a charity store in town that will take them,” I said. “Or you could use it.”
Teddy frowned.
“I don’t even know how to sew, let alone knit.”
“Oh, it’s super easy. YouTube it. You might like it.” The image of Teddy, a big god of a SEAL, sitting at home knitting scarves immediately flashed before my eyes. My heart swelled over how cute that would be.
But why would a big guy want to pick up a hobby that a lot of people thought was feminine?
“Oh well. Just a suggestion,” I said.
Teddy led me to the kitchen, where I put the pie down next to a loaf cake with white icing that looked absolutely gorgeous. I turned to Teddy.
“Did you make that?”
“Wh—or that? No, Zach made it for us,” Teddy said, scratching the back of his head. His cheeks went pink.
“Who is Zach?” Did that come out way too aggressive? Did it sound possessive?
I wanted to be the only one to feed Teddy cake. Preferably in bed. Preferably naked.
“He’s the next-door neighbor. He’s a lovely guy. Runs a bakery truck in town.”
I stared at the cake and tried to tame the roaring fire that had erupted inside me because it would be so terribly unseemly to explode over that. Teddy wasn’t my boyfriend. He wasn’t my anything. I had no right to be jealous.
And yet the crawling under my skin persisted.
“How wonderful,” I said after too long a pause.
“What do you say, Bear? Should we cut into Wes—Mr. Crawford’s pie?”
I stepped aside and let him do his thing when I realized the lemon cake was still untouched.
