“But you have sixteen amazing years under your belt. That’s something to be proud of.”
“Yeah,” she agrees. “I’m a lucky lady.” Just then, Jeff walks in the kitchen. He’s tugging his shirt over his head, but it appears it’s stuck because he didn’t unbutton the collar, and his midsection is bulging out as he yells, “Honey? A little help here?”
I look back to Wendy, biting my lips to keep from laughing as she shakes her head in silent laughter. “The luckiest lady in all the land.”
She stands and goes to him as he stops moving; his shirt still stuck over his head. “Who are you talking to?”
“Demi,” she chuckles as she yanks his shirt back down revealing his flustered expression and sparse hair, wild and unruly. He looks to me and juts his chin. “Hey, Demi.”
“Hi, Jeff,” I wave working hard to hide my amusement.
Wendy sets about unbuttoning his collar as she speaks. “Demi was just telling me about her date last night and I was bragging about my big strong man here,” she pulls the shirt back up and together they manage to get it off of him. Jeff, while strong, is a softer looking man. Working long hours and having five kids hasn’t exactly left him a lot of time to work out. So his protruding belly is no surprise to me.
Wendy tosses the shirt on the counter and takes her seat beside me again as Jeff smooths his hair back. “Well, you are pretty damn lucky,” he muses. “You get all of this.” He motions his hands down his body.
Wendy sips her coffee and giggles. “I know it, baby.” I’m clenching my eyes closed trying to keep my laughter under wraps. When I open them, Jeff is rolling his back, his belly moving as his hips thrust forward, walking toward Wendy.
“Do you need me to show Demi what a real man looks like?” he asks as he takes her mug from her hand and sits it on the table and proceeds to give her a rather G-rated lap dance.
“I’m sorry, Demi,” Wendy adds as she places her hands on Jeff’s hips to hold him back a little. “He’s all mine.”
“I’m not sure I could handle all that manliness,” I laugh.
Jeff stops and bends down, giving Wendy a chaste kiss. “How are you today, beautiful?”
“I’m good.”
“Got a lot done today, Demi. Heading back over there bright and early tomorrow.”
“Good,” I answer. “Thank you. And I’m actually glad you’re here. I have something I need to talk to both of you about.”
Jeff walks backward until his back hits the counter and he crosses his arms, they almost rest on his protruding belly. “What’s up?”
Taking a deep breath, I look at Wendy. “This isn’t easy for me to . . . bring up to you. It’s an incredibly sensitive subject, and I hope you both know I only have your family’s best interest at heart; specifically Grayson’s.”
“Grayson?” Jeff questions, his brows rising.
“The last few times I’ve been around him I’ve noticed some things that concern me. When he spent the weekend with me, a lot of my concerns were solidified.” I pause and take another breath. Please don’t let them get pissed off at me. “The umbrella of autism is very wide.”
“Autism?” Jeff clarifies, his shock evident in his tone. “You think Grayson is autistic?”
“I think he falls somewhere on the spectrum, yes. But he’d need testing to accurately diagnose him.”
They both look at each other then back to me. Emotions flitter across their expressions, anger, denial, shock, and so on. “Some things I’ve seen that concern me are the way he always lines things up. How he doesn’t respond when you call his name; even when you’re right in front of his face, he won’t look at you while you say his name. But if he hears his favorite cartoon come on he goes running. Hyperness can be another indicator.”
“He’s just an active boy,” Jeff defends.
“He’s not just active,” I point out. “He’s constantly moving. When a child struggles to communicate, they can become frustrated and seem . . . distracted.”