I’m stunned by his out-of-the-blue reaction, wondering if I missed something. I feel like I should apologize, but I’m not sure what I’m sorry for. Is that rude? To ask about your kid’s height? I guess I’m not used to talking to men about their children. Usually, it’s just the other moms hanging around waiting for their kids to come out of school that I interact with, and they all seem very happy to compare the heights and weights of their children. It’s almost like a competition, in fact.
Dev rinses the dishes at the sink, but just as I’m about to apologize, he speaks. “I’m not really sure where my son falls on the height chart.”
I have about ten questions on the tip of my tongue, but I’m not completely deaf, dumb, and blind to body language. This is a subject he doesn’t want to discuss for whatever reason. Maybe he thinks it’s a mother’s job to worry about those things. Maybe he feels bad about the fact that Jacob’s mom isn’t around to participate.
My mouth switches over to autopilot while he cleans up the kitchen. “My son is actually small for his age. I guess he takes after both of us. His dad and me. But both of my daughters are at the higher end of the height chart at the doctor’s office. I don’t know if they’re going to hang on to that height into adolescence, but I’m keeping my fingers crossed.”
“You don’t want them to have to struggle with that whole height-challenged thing you have going on.” I can’t see his face, but I can hear the smile in his voice.
“Exactly.” Phew. I’m relieved he doesn’t sound stressed. Hopefully that means I haven’t totally offended him.
“What are their names?” he asks me.
“My oldest daughter is Sophie; she’s ten. My middle daughter is Melody, and she’s seven. And my son Sammy is not quite four. He’s got a birthday coming up next month. The older two are pretty easy, but he’s a real handful.”
Dev turns around after finishing up his cleaning and comes back over to the table, turning his chair around backward and straddling it. He folds his arms over the top of the seat, giving me his full attention. “I think it’s a boy thing. My son is always going a hundred miles an hour. I hate to say this, but I actually look forward to coming to work sometimes.”
I have to laugh at that. “I know exactly what you mean.” I look at my watch and then hold it up. “I keep checking to see how much time I have left on my weekend.”
“Oh. They’re gone? I thought they were with a sitter.”
“No, they are at my ex’s house until Sunday afternoon.” I pause for a moment. “Why did you think they were with a sitter?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess you were in such a hurry to get out of here, I thought it had something to do with your kids.”
“I don’t get it,” I say, my voice probably more sharp than it should be.
“You don’t get what?”
“Are you guys completely and totally desensitized to the real world?”
“I don’t think so.”
I gesture toward the door we entered to get into this room. “A half hour ago, you and I were locked in a panic room together because somebody was trying to break in to your warehouse in the middle of the afternoon.” I hold up a finger to stop him, knowing he’s about to correct me on the time of day. “Afternoon, evening, whatever. It’s still light outside. People don’t break in to other people’s places of business when it’s still light outside.”
“I agree.”
I don’t know what to say to that. He’s supposed to be arguing with me.
He takes over the conversation. “It’s not something you see every day, for sure. We’re not even certain at this point that it was a break-in attempt. And I’m sorry about the whole panic room mess. It’s just that . . . you’re not one of the team and I know you’re not trained for that kind of thing, so I went a little overboard in trying to keep you safe.”
Now I feel bad about being rude to him. And for thinking he’s as dumb as a post. Maybe he’s just . . . protective. Like a wolf. The wolf shows on Animal Planet are some of my favorites.
My voice comes out strained. “I appreciate you wanting to take care of me and doing what you thought was best at the time.”
I feel like crying. I’ve always wanted to have a man in my life who I could count on, who would protect me and my children when the poo hits the fan. It just didn’t work out that way for me, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it has to be that way for everyone. Maybe Dev is the whole package. Maybe he’s a good dad and a good man, too. He’s going to make a great husband someday if that’s the case.
I realize as I have this thought that I’m really happy for my sister. Even though she has to work with these nutballs, she has a man by her side who I know would take a bullet for her. And he’s great with his dog, Sahara, and May’s dog, Felix, so maybe he’ll be a good dad, too. I could almost imagine that whatever bullet hit him wouldn’t penetrate. He looks like a superhero. And now, when I look at Dev, I see those same qualities in him.
He nods, accepting my unspoken apology.
“You have to understand—this kind of stuff is just not normal for me. And it’s not normal for my sister, either. I honestly don’t understand why she’s working here.” It feels really good to say that out loud.