“Even when I was being a complete asshole?”
“Even then,” she nodded. “Doesn’t say much about my self-esteem, huh?”
“It says a lot about your heart, though,” I pointed out. “You’re kind; it’s rare to find.”
Just then, we heard a noise outside my door, and I jumped to my feet. “That’ll be Noah,” I whispered to her. “I’ll go out there, distract him, and take him to the kitchen. Then you can come in a few minutes later and act like you spent the night in the guest room, okay?”
“Sounds like a plan,” Kristen nodded.
I pulled on some pants and a shirt, and I opened the door to find Noah at the threshold of his door. “Daddy?” he said, rubbing his eyes hard.
I smiled, grabbed him and lifted him onto my hip. “Hi, little man,” I said, taking him into the kitchen. “Did you sleep well?”
“Uh-huh,” he nodded. “I had a dream, too.”
“No way; tell me about it?” I asked, glancing back at my bedroom door.
“You bought me a pony for my birthday,” Noah said. “And, I named him Pecan.”
I smiled. “Is that a dream or a wish?”
Noah’s smile was big and slightly guilty. “Both,” he admitted.
I was laughing when Kristen walked in. “Good morning,” she said.
“Krissie!” Noah screamed, running to her happily. “You’re here. I thought you went early like last time.”
Kristen and I exchanged a glance as she bent down and gave him a hug. “Not this time,” she said.
“Will you make me pancakes?” he asked.
“Noah, Kristen has to get going,” I said. “Don’t keep her.”
“No, don’t worry,” she said willingly. “I think I have time to whip up something fast before heading out.”
It turned out she was a wizard in the kitchen. She grabbed together a handful of ingredients, and within ten minutes, she set down a pile of homemade pancakes, scrambled eggs, and fresh juice.
“Wow,” I said, tasting one of her banana pancakes. “Where’d you learn to cook like this?”
“Cookbooks and YouTube,” she replied. “Mom was always busy, and it usually fell to me to do the cooking. I hated having the same thing over and over again, and I enjoyed experimenting, so I got pretty good.”
“Can I have another?” Noah asked, eyeing the plate of pancakes.
“Here you go,” I said, putting another one on his plate. “Go easy on the maple syrup, buddy.”
After a hasty farewell and a quick hug for Noah, Kristen left, and the two of us settled into our breakfast. Noah looked at me with a maple syrup-smeared smile. “I wish you could cook like this,” he said.
“I can try.”
“You can ask Krissie to teach you,” he said.
“Maybe I will.”
“Then she’ll be here more,” he said conspiratorially.
“Ah, is that your plan?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at him.
Noah smiled, but he didn’t trouble to deny it. “I like her,” he said. “She’s pretty, and she reads good stories and hugs me a lot and makes me yummy food to eat.”