After the divorce, he’d stopped calling her mom. Now, she was Gia, his ex-stepmother. She understood his need to push her away, just as she understood that it was only to make sure she stuck. And stick she would. Blood or no blood, Evan was her son.
Gia mopped Aurora’s face with a napkin and tuned back into the conversation. Beckett and Evan were hotly debating The Rolling Stones versus The Grateful Dead. After a particularly impassioned exchange, Beckett frowned. “You ever think of law school?” he asked Evan.
The boy grinned and reached for another slice of pizza. “It’s nice to have a logical discussion for a change,” Evan said, nodding in Gia’s direction.
Gia winged a piece of breadstick at him.
“Freeze!” she ordered Aurora, who had just picked up her crust to throw. “Only people over the age of twelve can throw food.”
“Mama! That’s not fair! What can I do?”
Gia looked thoughtful. “Hmm, how old are you again?”
Aurora giggled, but didn’t release the pizza crust. “Five!”
“Five? Wow, you are getting old. Five-year-olds are allowed to eat an entire piece of pizza without using their hands.”
Evan feigned skepticism. “I don’t know, Roar. Think you can do it?”
Aurora nodded seriously, accepting the challenge.
Gia cut a slice of cheese into bite-sized pieces and slid it onto Aurora’s plate. She grinned at Beckett as her little girl squished her face into the plate like a champ at a pie-eating contest.
Gia and Evan air high-fived each other across the table drawing a laugh from Beckett as he reached for the salad.
“Just like Summer and Carter’s piggies,” Aurora announced, lifting her head and proudly showing off her pizza-stained face.
“I’m really impressed, Rora.” Beckett’s praise had the little girl giggling.
Gia winked at him. “Okay, my little piggy, let’s get you cleaned up before you smear pizza sauce all over Beckett’s nice house.”
“I got her,” Evan said, pushing back his chair. “Come on, Roar.”
“You forgot to ‘fro pizza at Mama,” Aurora reminded him as they pushed through the door to the kitchen. “You’re twelve.”
“I’ll get her next time,” Evan promised his sister.
“Sorry about that,” Gia apologized to Beckett. “Sometimes Evan and I have to get a little creative to make sure she eats enough. She’s easily distracted.”
“They are great kids,” Beckett assured her.
“They really are. For every time I want to lock them in the basement, they’ve made me laugh until my face hurt five times.”
“Sounds like extreme highs and lows,” he commented.
“The bipolar experience of parenting. Is it a pool you plan to dip your toe into someday?” Gia asked.
“I haven’t really given it much thought.”
“A man doesn’t buy a five-bedroom house without giving it a little thought,” Gia countered, nibbling on the rest of her breadstick.
“I bought a one-bedroom house with a man cave, a home gym, a second office, and a sex room.”
Gia laughed. “Oh, I like you, Beckett. And under different circumstances I’d really like to see your sex room.”
She enjoyed his groan. “You’re making me regret doing the right thing.”
“Mission accomplished. Now, the least I can do is your dishes.” She got up from the table and collected the plates.
Beckett followed her with the glasses and utensils. They found a damp Evan mopping up a lake-sized puddle on the floor.
“Sorry, Bucket,” he said. “She got a hold of the sprayer.” Aurora was gleefully dancing around the edges of her self-made water park.
“Say you’re sorry, Aurora, and clean up your own mess,” Gia said sternly.
“Sorry, Bucket,” Aurora chirped with a happy grin, obviously not the least bit apologetic. She took the towel from Evan and sloshed it through the water.
“I promise I’ll actually clean that up,” Gia whispered to Beckett as Aurora splattered water over the bottom cabinets. “Aurora, you owe Evan five minutes of peace and quiet.”
“Yes!” Evan pumped his fist in the air.
“What does Rora get when Evan’s in trouble?”
“Five minutes of playtime,” Evan answered, rolling his eyes.
“Usually tea party or dollies,” Aurora said conversationally as she swiped the sopping wet towel through the puddle that had now spread to the refrigerator.
“Okay. Thank you for cleaning up your mess, Aurora. Can you guys thank Beckett for dinner?”
“Thank you, Bucket.”
“Yeah, thanks, Bucket.”
Beckett ruffled Evan’s hair. “No problem. See you around.”
Gia shooed them out the backdoor. “I’ll be right over,” she told Evan. When the door closed behind them, she grabbed the roll of paper towels on the counter and went to work sopping up the puddle.
“You don’t have to do that,” Beckett said, his voice strained.
Gia scrubbed hard at a stubborn stain she found, a flyaway curl tumbling free. “I don’t think my security deposit covers damage to your home caused by my kids.”