She smiled. “Take any seat you like, though I warn you, if you sit too close to Julian, you’ll probably end up sticky and gross. He tends to fling food.”
I sat next to the kid anyway, because the seat closest to him looked like the most inconspicuous, out-of-the-way spot between the table and the wall.
Julian paused in the middle of smashing a piece of banana into his plate. Then he picked up the mutilated chunk and held it my way, as if making some kind of peace offering.
I shook my head. “No thanks.”
Eva chuckled and set the soup and sandwich in front of me. “Pick always offers him a bite off his plate, so I think Julian assumes sharing food is an expected course of etiquette now.”
I tore off a crustless piece of the grilled cheese Eva had made me, and offered it to Julian. He took it gracefully and then shoved it not-so gracefully into his mouth before sending me a big grin.
“And your male bonding is complete.” Eva slid into the chair across from me, and even though she sent me a warm smile, it made me tense.
Bonding with her children was one thing. Getting cozy with her was quite another. And I realized exactly why a moment later while she watched me dip my crust into the tomato soup to take my first bite.
“Pick says you didn’t have that scar before you were arrested.”
And here came the reason adults were so much more complicated. They asked questions you didn’t want to answer. Though to be honest, my scar was the last topic I thought she’d attack.
I touched the area briefly. “No.” My gruff answer put out the warning signals, cautioning her not to go there. “I didn’t.”
But she did, anyway. “Did you get it when you killed those two men in prison?”
I gazed at her steadily, refusing to answer. All the while, in my mind’s eye, I saw the crudely crafted blade slashing toward me, felt the sting of the tip as it sliced open my flesh, tasted the blood as it dripped into my mouth.
“So it’s a story you don’t wish to share.” Eva nodded respectfully. “I have a couple of those.” But instead of leaving me be, she kept on. “Pick says you look totally different, much bigger, buffer. And you talk gruffer. You even walk different, with a bit of a limp.”
Remembering the distinct black sole of the boot that had hurled at me right before it kicked in my windpipe and crushed it, and the pain in my leg when they’d stabbed that, I cleared my throat and concentrated on swallowing down a dry piece of toast.
“I lifted weights a lot to help pass the time,” I said, feeling as if I needed to give her some kind of response, or she’d just keep pestering.
She smiled big. “I figured you weren’t the type who liked to stay idle.”
“No, ma’am.”
With a nod, she added, “Maybe you’d like to help me carry some boxes of old baby clothes down to my car once you’re done eating then.”
“Okay.” I put down my spoon and began to stand, but she laughed and waved me back into my seat.
“Not now. After you eat. There’s no hurry. They’ve been boxed up and ready to take to Goodwill for weeks. I keep meaning to ask Pick to carry them out, but for some reason, I always get distracted whenever I see him.”
He appeared in the doorway, and I could tell exactly what distracted her about his presence as her gaze heated and ran over him. He went to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, so I looked away, trying to forget how it’d always felt to be near that one special person, how just her smile could light me up.
I focused my attention on Julian as I watched Pick and Eva kiss out of my peripheral vision. He offered me another chunk of banana. This time, I took it without a word.
“I’m going to check on one of my waitresses who isn’t answering her phone. So, I’ll be out for a couple minutes.”