Chapter Twelve: Like A Family
Naomi
My research paper was officially done. I’d been working my butt off, and it felt good to know I had completed it a couple of days ahead of schedule, instead of scrambling to meet the word count the day it was due. I made sure to save it in more than one place, including an external hard drive, and closed my laptop for the evening.
It was Saturday and Smoke was due to arrive at any time to pick up Gavin for some quality guy time.
Normally, I worked on Saturday evenings—the second busiest night of the week, but Duane had called me this morning, suggesting that I take the evening off since I didn’t feel well the night before. I’d tried to politely decline the offer since I was faking it anyway, and I could really use the money, but then I found out it wasn’t really a suggestion. He was mad about last night when I’d left early, after my ‘friend’ threatened him. So, he was forcing me to stay home all evening, basically forfeiting the money I’d have made in tips to make up for his bruised ego.
Jerk.
So, I’d decided to do nothing for a change. I intended to pop some popcorn in the microwave and watch whatever I could find on TV. Preferably something funny. It would be a great opportunity to recharge my batteries. I’d been caught up on my schoolwork, and since Gavin would be spending time with Smoke, I didn’t have anything to feel guilty about. And a pleasant change. In the past, when I’d been raising Gavin on my own, I had suffered from the dreaded mom-guilt anytime I did something for myself. Now, I had someone to share the responsibility with.
“Finish your dinner,” I told Gavin. “Smoke will be here soon to take you out for some ice cream.”
“I don’t like carrots,” Gavin said, stabbing at the orange vegetable with his fork and wrinkling his nose.
“You know, carrots were the first baby food I ever gave you. You used to love them.”
“That was like ten years ago, Mom.”
“Three bites,” I said sternly as I took a bite of my chicken. I wasn’t a great cook. I just didn’t have a lot of interest in it, but I could manage some grilled chicken breasts and canned vegetables. “If you don’t eat your carrots, I’ll have to tell your dad that you can’t have ice cream.”
Gavin frowned, but he didn’t call my bluff, taking three more bites of the carrots quickly, like he was trying to get it over with.
I felt relieved because I wouldn’t really try to take away Gavin’s treat with Smoke, but I would lose credibility if I didn’t follow through. It was a gamble to make the threat, but it worked. I rolled the dice and won this time.
“Do you think I should call him that?”
“Call who what?”
“Dad. Should I call Smoke that?”
I swallowed my chicken and sat my fork down on my plate, feeling an unexpected swelling of emotion. It was silly, really. He wasn’t even talking about me, but I felt ridiculously happy to hear that he was considering calling Smoke… Dad. It meant he was developing a real relationship with the man, like he felt close enough to Smoke to give him such a personal title. “Do you want to?” I asked, trying not to let him hear the hope in my voice. I didn’t want to pressure him into it. He had to make this decision for himself.
Gavin looked thoughtful for a moment as he chewed his food.
I found that I was waiting with bated breath. I knew nothing could fully make up for me keeping Gavin from Smoke, but I couldn’t help feeling like this would go a long way toward making things right. Smoke wanted to be a part of Gavin’s life, and for that alone, he deserved to be called Dad.
“I think I do,” Gavin finally said. “It’s weird to call him Smoke. Don’t tell him, but Smoke is a weird name, anyway. Do you think he’ll be okay with it? If I call him Dad, I mean?”
I smiled. “I think he’ll love it.”
We finished eating, and I put the dishes in the dishwasher while Gavin put on his shoes in the other room. When a knock sounded at the door, I dried my hands on a dishtowel and opened it.
Smoke stood there, as expected, but I immediately knew something was wrong when I laid eyes on him.
He looked tired, but that might have just been because of the deep frown on his face, drawing long lines around his mouth and eyes. He leaned with his shoulder against the doorframe. When he saw me, he tried to smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
A dark aura lingered around him that I could sense more than I could see. “What’s wrong?” I asked as he stepped inside the apartment. I’d been hoping for a different reaction from him since the last time we’d seen each other and we’d kissed. But I had a feeling the heavy aura he was emitting had nothing to do with me.
“It’s nothing,” he said.
I gave him a pointed look.
He sighed. “It’s Ink. He was the bartender at Wheelz the other night. He’s my club brother.”
“What about him?”