What caused that reaction out of him?
Then my eyes roved to my exposed breast inside of Jordan’s slacked mouth. I observed it long enough to catch his intermittent suckling that wasn’t feeding, it was pacifying. I didn’t allow Jordan to use my breasts as a pacifier. That wasn’t healthy. Softly, I pulled back from him without stirring him, hooked and tucked myself inside of my blouse.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured, unable to look him in the eye.
“Don’t be,” he returned at equal volume.
I positioned Jordan over my shoulder to burp him, still avoiding Stenton’s eyes. I knew this would take a while since he was in a deep sleep.
“I didn’t know you two would be here. We could have come together.”
“We’re on a Sarah Barrett assignment. I think our mission has been accomplished.” I smiled.
“You’re leaving?” there was alarm in his baritone.
“Yeah, probably should. You know how your uncle’s timer of hospitality works.”
Stenton snickered. “Nah, I think you two did good. I haven’t seen him this jolly since he hit the Pick 6 in ’92.”
“You know me. I light the fire in everyone’s eyes with my infectious sense of humor,” I added wryly while searching the baby bag for a burping cloth.
Things got quiet. I glanced up to find Stenton’s fixated gaze on me. It was intense, searing. The depth of emotion in his marbled eyes could strangle me. I didn’t understand it though.
“So, you and Erika finally, huhn?” my tone feigned cheerfulness.
I’d watched and read the countless reports of their official announcement of formally dating. Formally dating… What did that mean? According to Stenton when we first met, for him and Erika Erceg it meant a manufactured relationship. But for Erika it meant she’d gotten what she’d wanted for years. I was still baffled by what Stenton had to gain by it, though.
“Zo—” he started.
“That’s your business life, right? Don’t worry about it. You like your privacy and I respect it. It was a simple reference to Mr. Google, not your real life, right?” My tone was even.
I didn’t want him to feel like he did anything wrong when he moved on. Stenton had been generous to Jordan and me. I should have had no complaints. These are things I said to myself as I packed up our things and secured Jordan over my shoulder before standing.
“Sarah Barrett made your uncle banana bread. If you’re kind he’ll share one piece with you. Just keep your shoes on,” I advised.
Stenton’s face morphed into a quizzical expression. I didn’t want to allow time for a serious talk, so I reached up, signaling for him to bring his head down as I always did, and planted a kiss on his stubbled cheek. Inhaling his virility was torturous. I didn’t slow my steady stride out into the living room where Stanley sat, watching television.
“You leaving?” he echoed his nephew’s question.
“Yes. I have homework to complete.”
“Okay,” he replied monotone, not even facing me or offering goodbyes to a sleeping Jordan, who Stenton was locking up in his car seat.
His reticence had returned. That was okay with me because I knew my time in his good energy had expired, but would return the next time he agreed to interfacing. Similar to his nephew, who was now leaning against the doorway of the living room, wearing the same morose expression I woke from my catnap to find. This time, though, it wasn’t accompanied by the swelling of his appendage. He too would come around to being the Stenton I fell in love with when he got ready.