“Yeah. Just wanted to tell you thanks again.”
“Not necessary. Drive carefully this evening, okay? You’ll be tired.”
“Nice to know you’re concerned about me.” His answer was spoken flippantly, but something in his voice made Emily bite her lip. “See you tonight, Emily,” he added, then disconnected.
Emily had a sinking feeling that she would be counting the hours even more eagerly than Clay.
What a fool she was.
IT WAS ALMOST ELEVEN when someone tapped lightly on Emily’s front door. She’d been sitting in the quiet living room, reading and waiting for Wade’s arrival. She set her book aside and hurried to open the door.
She’d left the porch light on for him. His face looked haggard in the soft glare.
“You’re exhausted,” she said, studying him compassionately.
He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, the gesture a weary one. “Beat,” he agreed. “I got all of a couple of hours’ sleep last night.”
“Did you get everything worked out?”
“I think so. The situation looked better when I left than when I arrived.”
“Then at least your time wasn’t wasted.”
“That’s something, anyway,” he agreed.
She closed the door behind him. “Have you eaten?”
Wade made a face. “I had a sandwich for lunch. Haven’t eaten since. I’ll pick up drive-through on the way home.”
“You’ll do no such thing. I have a plate of leftovers from dinner in the refrigerator. All I have to do is pop it in the microwave. Clay’s sound asleep, so there’s no reason you can’t relax a minute before you take him home.”
He looked decidedly tempted. “Aren’t you tired?”
She shook her head. “I can sleep late tomorrow. Come on into the kitchen. Do you want coffee, or is it too late for that?”
He followed close at her heels, peeling off his denim jacket. “Got any milk?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’ll take a glass of milk. How did things go this evening with Clay?”
“He wasn’t a bit of trouble. You have a delightful little boy, Wade. You must enjoy him very much.” She set the plate of leftovers in the microwave, pressed the start button, then turned to pour him a large glass of milk—the same beverage Clay had requested for dinner, she thought with a smile.
“He’s my life,” Wade answered simply...and touchingly.
The microwave’s beeping saved Emily from having to try to speak around the sudden lump in her throat. She slid the warmed plate in front of Wade, along with a fork, knife and napkin.
“Hey, this looks great.” Wade spent a moment admiring the arrangement of baked chicken, wild rice and mixed vegetables. “This is what you fed Clay for dinner?”
“Yes. He seemed to like it.” Emily poured herself a small glass of milk and took a seat at the table opposite Wade.
“No kidding. No wonder he was in no hurry for me to get here.” Wade scooped a forkful of food into his mouth, chewed, then swallowed before saying appreciatively, “Delicious.”
She smiled. “You’re just very hungry.”
“No, really. Clay and I are very fond of Cecilia, and she’s a won
der as a housekeeper, but her cooking skills are only adequate at best. We don’t complain, of course, because she more than makes up for that lack in other ways. She’s been really good to Clay.”