Until December (Until Her/Him #8)(21)

“A date? Like… with a girl?” Max asks, and I hear either Selma or Sejla laugh, but I’m not sure which one, since their laughs are almost as identical as they are.

“Yeah.”

“With who?” Mitch questions, and I look at him.

“December.”

“Miss Mayson?” His brows knit together over his eyes.

“Yeah, you okay with that?” Shit, I don’t even know what I’d do if he says no.

“That’s cool.” He shrugs.

“You’re going out on a date with December Mayson?” Selma asks, and I look at her.

“Yeah.”

“Wow.” She looks at Sejla, and they share a look that I’ve learned over the years is actually a full-blown conversation.

“Who’s December?” Max asks, glancing at everyone in the room with a look that states he’s feeling left out.

“She’s cool,” Mitchell tells his brother. “She’s a teacher.”

“At the high school?” Max clarifies.

“No, she teaches first graders.”

Max frowns. “Then how do you know her?”

“She and a few other first grade teachers bring their classes to the high school once a week. Me and a bunch of the kids in my class play games with them, shoot hoops, or read books. It’s fun, and plus we get to skip study hall,” he says like that is the best part. “Miss Mayson is one of the coolest teachers who comes. Most of the other teachers are stuck up, but she’s always laughing and joking with us when she’s there.”

“Cool,” Max says, and Mitchell grins.

“About that, kid. I don’t remember you ever mentioning it to me,” I say, watching my oldest closely.

“It’s not a big deal.” He shrugs casually before he turns to press the up arrow and increase his speed on the treadmill.

“You’re right,” I agree when he looks at me, continuing to walk backward just faster now. “It’s not a big deal, but it’s still something I’d like to know you’re doing. It’s also something I’m proud of you for doing.”

“It’s awesome you’re doing that,” Selma inserts, and I see Sejla nod in agreement. “I’m sure the kids love it and really look up to you.”

“I guess,” Mitchell murmurs, looking a little embarrassed.

“I’m proud of you, kid,” I say, and his eyes meet mine. “Your aunt’s right. Those kids probably look up to you and look forward to the time you spend with them each week.”

“Thanks, Dad,” he mumbles, and I lift my chin, not wanting to make him feel any more awkward than he already does.

“So where are you taking December?” Sejla asks, and I look to where she’s standing with her arms crossed over her chest as she studies me. “Please tell me it’s some place nice and not out for pizza or a burger.”

“I’m taking her to Flame,” I reply, and her eyes grow wide. I’m not surprised by her expression. Flame opened three months ago, and the waitlist for a table has been a month out since opening. “I know the owner. I’ve done quite a bit of work on his cars, and he told me awhile back that if I wanted a table, it was mine. So I pulled a favor.”

“Well, color me impressed.”

“Glad you approve,” I mutter sarcastically, and she grins.

“What time is Grandma coming over?” Max asks behind me, and I turn to find him on the treadmill with his brother.

“Around 4:30.”

“Can we go to the movies tonight?”

“If your grandma is up to taking you, sure,” I answer, and the two of them smile, since they know from experience that all they have to do is ask and their grandma will jump at the chance to make them happy. “That said, you two should get a head start on whatever homework you’ve got before she gets here. That way, tomorrow, you’re not complaining when I’m watching the game and eating junk food without you.”

“Homework sucks,” Max states as Mitchell turns to power down the treadmill.

“Look at the bright side; you two only have a few more months of school before summer is here,” Sejla tells him, and his eyes go to her as he jumps away from his brother, who playfully pushes him off the now still treadmill.

“I guess you’re right,” he agrees with his aunt then peers up at me. “If I’m gonna do homework, I need brain food.”

“You just ate an entire meal from McDonald’s in the car on the way here. How are you even hungry right now?” Selma asks, sounding astonished.

“That was like forever ago,” he says with a straight face, and she shakes her head in disbelief.

I curl my boy into my side and tip my head down toward him. “Turn on the oven and I’ll put in a pizza for you before I hop in the shower.”

“Cool.” He grins, and I ruffle his hair then let him go to watch him hug his aunts before he disappears through the doorway into the house.

“I need brain food too, Dad,” Mitchell tells me with a grin as Selma and Sejla start muttering back and forth under their breath about how much my boys eat.

“I’m sure one pizza will be enough to hold you and your brother over until dinner.”

“I guess so,” he grumbles before he starts for the door.