The Presence of Grace (Love and Loss #2)(38)

“No,” Devon said softly, “Ruby’s right. I’ll grill for you some other time. But tonight I shall dazzle you with all the culinary expertise three hours and YouTube have earned me.”

I lifted one eyebrow. “Is it too late to claim I’m ill?”

“None of that,” he said, laughing. “Ruby has helped a lot. I’m sure it’s edible. Well, mostly sure.”

“It smells amazing, whatever it is.”

Devon gave me another smile, then turned to Jax. “Buddy, take Grace’s things and put them on my bed, okay?”

“All right,” he said, holding his arms out toward me like a stiff little robot. All I had was my purse so I placed it in his hands and watched with a smile as he dutifully marched it back to Devon’s bedroom.

“Would you like some wine?”

“Sure, I think one glass would be fine before work.”

“I think white goes with the meal better. Is that all right?” He peered at me over the top of the refrigerator door, and I was stunned for a moment by the effort he was putting forth. I’d thought I was coming over for dinner, something casual and light, and while nothing felt heavy, I was shocked by the time and attention Devon and his children had put into this one meal.

“White would be lovely.”

“I wanted to make chocolate lava cakes, but I needed to make sure they would turn out all right, so I made just one first. Kind of like a test cake,” Ruby said as she grabbed a fork. “If I did this correctly and followed the recipe right, when I cut into this cake, hot chocolate sauce should pour out of it like a volcano.” She looked determined, but also a little nervous to cut into the small round cake, but she finally sliced into it with her fork. She let out an excited cry as the chocolate sauce poured out of the cake. “I did it!” She bounced up and down on her feet while putting the one bite of cake in her mouth. “And it tastes good,” she said, the words muffled slightly by the dessert.

“That’s impressive, Ruby.”

She gave me a proud smile.

“She really wanted to make something fancy for dessert. I was just going to buy a cheesecake or something, but she wouldn’t let me.”

I watched as I tried to hide a grin as Ruby rolled her eyes. “Men,” she said with a sigh.

“All right,” Devon said, giving Ruby a soft and playful flick on the tip of her nose. “Go make sure the table is all set.” She walked out of the kitchen just as Devon handed me a glass of wine. “I’ve put together for you a creamy broccoli, bacon, and chicken pasta.”

My eyes widened at his words. “You have?”

“Yes, and I know I’m the one who made it, but it looks delicious. And the good news is, it was easy to make so if it tastes as good as it looks, my kids and I thank you for the new meal in our rotation. Pizza, burgers, and hot dogs were getting a little old.” He took a sip of his own wine, and then led me to the table, which was set with mismatched plates and cups with paper napkins folded underneath the silverware. The effort he went to for dinner didn’t go unnoticed, but it was also endearing that it was still a glaringly bachelor setup. He led me to one end of the rectangular table and pulled out a chair for me, pushing it in as I sat. Before I realized what was happening, he placed a kiss on the side of my neck. My breath caught in my throat, and then a shiver shot down my spine as he spoke against the sensitive skin of my neck. “You smell amazing.”

Oh, man. My body was emblazoned just by one kiss and a few sweet words.

I felt the heat of his body move away and watched as he went back into the kitchen. I took another sip of my wine, trying to convince my body that it wasn’t, in fact, on fire.

“Ruby, Jax, come to the table,” Devon hollered.

The next forty-five minutes were surreal. Most of the time I felt like an outsider, watching from the other side of a window, peering into a manifestation of every dream I’d ever had as a woman. Then there were other times, instances when Devon or one of the kids spoke to me, where I wanted to pinch myself just as a reminder that this wasn’t my reality.

Ruby and Jax bickered and argued. Devon scolded. Then he joked and the kids laughed. They talked about their days, what was exciting and what was disappointing. They made plans. They smiled. The kids told stories about their dad in an effort to embarrass him, and sometimes succeeded. Devon blushed and told the children he had much more embarrassing stories about them he could tell if they didn’t stop. The children laughed at his threat and then he gave me a bashful smile.

I was circling the emotional drain, swirling around and hitting every emotional checkpoint on the way down. I was laughing with them one minute and then trying to hold back tears the next, taking sips of wine to try and hide the sudden sadness and panic that came on with the wave of devastation.

This.

This was what I’d always wanted. A family. To sit around a table with a man and children, but in my dreams, those children were mine and the man belonged to me as well. There was something about witnessing the normalcy of life between Devon and his children that sent me reeling.

He was a father, and I’d never be a mother. This gaping difference between us hadn’t occurred to me before sitting at a dinner table with the evidence. Well, that wasn’t true. I’d known all along Devon had children; what I hadn’t anticipated was how dating a man with children would make me feel. I’d pictured the rest of my life childless—the only children being the ones I taught and sent home at the end of the day. I’d always imagined dating a man with children would be too difficult, too close to the gaping wound that was always festering, and I was beginning to see that I was perhaps not capable of watching a man father his children without being constantly reminded that I’d never be given the opportunity to parent.