Page 15 of Challenged By You
“No. My cousin Chelsea has blessed us with three.”
“What a lovely way of phrasing it. Do you enjoy children?”
“I like her demons,” I say with complete honesty. I’m rewarded with another quick laugh.
“I appreciate that,” she says as her hands move so fast they’re a blur.
“What’s that?” I ask, fascinated as she gets the batter ready.
“Honesty.” Piercing blue eyes meet mine. “I expect it from everyone I deal with. I expect that’s why I didn’t react well when I came face-to-face with you. I was accused of lying at work the other night as a result of your review.”
“I heard about that when I learned about the review being wrong.”
“I’ll apologize for my quick temper. I’m…passionate about certain things. The truth is one of them.”
Trina makes quick work of heating the pan with minimal fuss and dipping the bread in, including, I note, the crusty ends. “Did you run out of bread?” I ask politely.
“Today’s grocery shopping day.” She tips her head back toward a list taped on her refrigerator. “The good thing is there’s a canned sale, so I’ll be able to stock up on a few things.”
I scoot behind Trina as she flips the perfectly caramelized bread to get closer to the list. My lips part in surprise. “It’s so specific.” I’m scanning over what would be quick items to pick up in most households: jarred fruits, canned veggies, bread, milk. But Trina has even the amounts written down. Plucking the list down, I demand, “Is every week like this for you?”
Without even a glance in my direction, she flips over a few more pieces of toast before saying, “That’s for two weeks.” I must emit some kind of sound because she goes on blithely, “I also get a shipment from an online retailer of pull-ups and snacks for these two. It’s much more cost effective.”
“Why are you doing this on your own?” I stress the question I asked last night in the dark of the train. “Does Seduction pay its employees that poorly?”
“Actually, no. They’re on the generous side. Like I said, when you factor in the cost of living in the city, day-to-day expenses, child care, savings plans, you have to be very careful with what you spend.” Finished with the toast, Trina goes to work making a quick sauce from the butter, milk, spices, and sugar. “I hope this works for you. I’m not a fan of feeding the twins complete junk, though they are a fan of… God, it pains me to say it.”
But my eyes have already spotted the boxed item on her grocery list. “No. There’s no way a chef as talented as you feeds your kids mac’n’crap.”
“I augment it.” There’s a definitive edge to Trina’s voice as if she feels the need to defend herself.
“But you could make it better from scratch. Just like this.” I gesture to the sauce she’s pouring into Dixie cups for the kids to dunk into before setting aside the rest for the remaining two dishes.
Pressing her lips together, she reaches up for a new jar of applesauce. Holding it up, she asks, “Yes, no?”
“Absolutely no. I hate apples even more than I hate processed food,” I announce flatly.
Her eyes widen slightly, but I notice she carefully slides two extra pieces of french toast onto the one of the plates before getting a single bowl down for herself. I feel like a heel standing there stealing food from her mouth as she waits on me, but I’m afraid if I intervene, it will cause more havoc or worse yet hurt her pride. Soon, she’s undoing the straps to swing Annie off her back. “Ready when you are,” Trina says.
Jerking out of a zone, I wait for her to sit with Annie on her lap. Trina slides a small bowl and spoon onto the tray with applesauce for Chris before saying firmly, “Apples first.”
“Toast,” he grunts back at her.
“It’s too hot, baby. Eat that while it cools down,” she coaxes.
Her son grunts again before picking up the plastic spoon and smearing a bite over his lips. His eyes light up. “Sapple sauce!” Of course, his exuberance comes with the spitting of his food in all directions.
I discreetly wipe my nose as some of it traverses the length of the small cafe table. “Oh, shoot. I forgot your apron,” Trina say guiltily. She begins to shift Annie, who’s already lifting a spoonful to her mouth. Petulantly, and solely because I disturbed her mother, she flings the tiny amount backward so it lands on Trina’s forehead. “No move, Mama,” she orders.
I snicker. I can’t help it. The glare Trina shoots in my direction should drop me to the floor, writhing in agony. I duck my head to cut into the best breakfast I’ve had in eons, but not before I catch the curving of her lips. Turning my focus back to my breakfast companions, I listen to Trina explain to her daughter, “Annie, Mama was getting a towel for our guest. That’s not how we behave.” The next thing I know, a glob lands on my hand. Chris has decided to join his sister in painting me in today’s breakfast. “Oh, for the moments I wish for a dog,” Trina gripes as my head tips back onto my shoulders with silent laughter.
“I now understand the offer of an apron.” My voice is filled with mirth. I hear a squeak. Expecting horror, I’m surprised to see amusement on her face. I offer her some consolation. “My brother and I were much worse, if that offers you any comfort.”
“It does actually. And you both managed to grow up sane?” I see her slide a spoonful of slimy applesauce into her mouth, and I have to refrain from shuddering. I debate whether or not to answer, but since I’m so blatantly invading her privacy for this article, I figure I need to open up about who I am.
“Julian—my twin—and I are still thick as thieves. We were raised by my mother’s brother, Karlson, and his wife after Mom passed away.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that. How old were you?”
