Page 11 of All in December
The hostess leads us through the dining room, and we settle into a round table tucked near the back. Nash pulls out the chair next to mine, and knowing he wants to sit next to me makes me smile.
We all pick up our menus as the hostess walks away.
“I think I want a burger,” Benji shares after looking at the menu for thirty seconds.
“Does it have bacon? If it has bacon on it, it’s probablygood,” Sam says, completely serious, and I glance up from my menu to make eye contact with Nash as we both try to hold back a laugh. Kids are so funny.
“I’m getting the one with onion rings on top,” Benji decides. “I’m starving.”
“That chicken tender fuel running out?” Nash jokes.
“Yeah.” Benji shrugs. “That was hours ago, Dad.”
“I’m starving too,” Sam adds on, and it’s a mystery how in sync these two are already.
Nash shakes his head at me, grinning. “We’ve created monsters.”
“Hungry monsters,” I agree.
I let out a small laugh and lean back in my chair. This whole thing feels surprisingly easy and comfortable.
“Hi, I’m Cassy. I’ll be taking care of you tonight. Can I get you anything to drink besides water?” the waitress asks, setting a jug of water down on the table.
“Water is great,” Nash tells her.
“That works for me, too. Thanks.”
“I want the onion ring burger,” Benji pipes up.
“Oh, are we ready to order?” Cassy asks.
Nash turns to look at me, and I give him a nod.
“Seems like it. Sam, do you want to go next?” he asks, and my heart swells.
“I’ll do the bacon cheeseburger! Can I have fries?”
“Of course,” Cassy says as she writes down the order.
Nash turns to me instead of Cassy. “Caleb?”
He’s just being polite, I remind myself. But, seriously, if this sweet, thoughtful, ridiculously considerate man keeps doing stuff like this, I’m going to need someone to tie me down before I float away.
I’ve spent so many years making sure Sam goes first—andhe always will—but it’s rare for anyone to pause long enough to also see me in the equation. Nash not only prioritized Sam, but he’s prioritizing me, too.
I clear my throat. “Yeah, uh, I’ll do the chicken sandwich, please.” At least my voice sounds steady, I think.
“I’ll do the steak, medium, with fries,” Nash says, rounding out our orders.
“Great, I’ll go put that in. It shouldn’t be long,” Cassy confirms, holding her hand out for the menus.
As soon as she’s gone, the boys dive into a debate over whose burger will be better. Nash leans back in his chair, arm draped casually over the top of Benji’s, and I glance over at him. My eyes land on the sliver of skin peeking out from beneath his shirt. There’s the start of a happy trail that leads straight to… somewhere very happy. I lick my lips before my brain catches up, and I immediately look away.
Jesus, I need to get it together. This is not the place.
When I glance up, Nash is already looking at me, an amused smirk tugging at his mouth like he’s waiting for me to say something.
Heat crawls up my neck as I fumble for words.
