“You okay back there?” Troy asks, glancing at me through the rearview mirror.

“Yeah,” I say, going back to my phone. “Why?”

“You just seem jittery, I guess. That’s not normal for you. Even when you’re stressed or pissed, you’re always composed.”

I toss my phone into my briefcase and lock it. Resting my head on the back of the Rover seat, I take a deep breath. “Just stressed the fuck out.”

He clicks off the radio and turns down Alison’s street. “So, if you don’t mind me asking, how serious are we about this girl?”

“Serious.”

“That’s what I thought,” he says, slowing to a stop along the curb. “For the record, I really like her. She reminds me of Camilla, but without the trust fund.”

“She’s nothing like Swink. She keeps to herself, wants no part of this world. Camilla eats it up.”

“Yeah, but Camilla is the classiest woman I know. And Alison, she has that same vibe.”

I open my door and smile at my friend. “Thanks, man.”

He nods and as soon as I step out, he pulls away as I instructed him to do.

I make my way up the sidewalk to the front door, stepping over a baseball bat. It makes me smile because it’s so normal, such a typical family-in-the-suburbs thing to see.

There’s a chip in the front window of the house and I wonder as I knock if she’d be pissed if I had someone come over and fix it. And if I had them install a security system.

Before I can think too much about it, she pulls the door open. “Hey,” she grins, letting me inside. “Are you hungry? We just ate, but there are leftovers in the kitchen.”

“Yeah, actually. I am.”

I kiss her in a more reserved way than I’d like. I sit my briefcase down by the door and follow her into the back, watching her ass sway in front of me as we go.

Huxley is sitting at the table, working on math problems. He looks up and smiles. “Hey, Barrett.”

“Hi,” I say, sitting across from him. “How’s everything going?”

He shrugs. “Good, I guess. I hate math though. Are you good at it?”

“Nope,” I laugh. “I had my brother Ford do all my math homework when I was a kid. I hated it too.”

“I don’t get it when numbers and letters go together. That’s just ... confusing.”

“That it is,” I laugh.

Alison puts a plate of meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and green beans in front of me. It looks delicious, like something I’d get in a diner, but more wholesome. She watches nervously as I take a bite.

The flavors blindside me, so much more than I expected. “This is great,” I say honestly and take another bite. I didn’t even realize how hungry I was until now.

A television plays in the living room and I feel myself relax. This is the atmosphere you see on television, the American life you see on sitcoms. A life I didn’t even know was real until now. A life I didn’t know I needed until recently.

We chitchat about Hux’s school and the paper Alison just finished, but we stay away from the election. I’m grateful for that. Bringing that poison into this room would be wrong. It’s so real and pure in this kitchen that I want to preserve it.

“Time to do dishes,” Hux announces, taking my plate and going to the sink. I watch his little body move around—filling the sink, adding the bubbles, getting his towel laid out to catch the wet dishes.

Alison watches me with as much curiosity as I watch him. She raises her brows and I consider my next move, but know what I want to do.

Standing, I take off my watch and place it on the table. I roll my sleeves back to the elbows while I head towards Hux. He looks at me over his shoulder.

“You don’t have to help me,” he grins. “I do the dishes every night. It’s my job.”

“I’d like to help you, if you don’t mind,” I say, trying to figure out how to join into this perfected assembly he has going on. “I’ve never done this before.”

He nearly drops a plate. “What?”

I shrug. “We had people that did it for us.”

“Can we get people, Mom?”

Alison laughs, tucking her legs beneath her on the chair. “Sorry. No people for us,” she tells him.

I want to interject that I want them to have people, my people. That one day, sooner rather than later if I can help it, I want our lives merged. I want to take care of them, have a little slice of this life for myself and give them the privileges of mine. But not yet. Not until this mess of a campaign is behind me. And then we’ll go forward.

I look at Huxley, who’s grinning at me.

As a family.

I grin back.

“A couple of moms were volunteering in my class today,” Huxley announces. “They asked me about you.”

I take a soapy plate from him and rinse it under the water. He motions for me to put it on the towel, so I do.

“They did, huh?” I say. “What did you say?”

“I just told them that I did know you and you were a nice guy. But I needed to study and gossiping isn’t really a nice thing to do.”

“Since when do you not gossip?” Alison asks. “I remember you coming home this afternoon telling me all about how Patrick stole the pen out of Nina’s desk.”

“That’s not gossip, Mom,” he says, rolling his eyes. “That’s fact.”

“Either way,” I tell him, taking a glass, “I appreciate your loyalty and not saying anything.”

He shrugs, but the corner of his lip quips. “Speak as you find. And, well, you’re like family now, kind of. And we protect each other. We don’t let each other get bullied and that’s what I felt like they were doing—getting information they could use against you.”

I glance over at Ali, my heart stilled in my chest that this little boy would think of me as family. She bites her lip, looking like she’s trying not to cry, so I try to change the topic for the sake of us all.

“So, tomorrow night I thought maybe you guys could come over to my house. I don’t cook, but you know ...”

“You have people,” Hux laughs.

“I do. Or your mom can come over and cook something in my kitchen. Would you like that?”

“Yeah, but I have a program at school.”

Alison stands and makes her way to the coffee pot. “Tomorrow night he has a fall music program.” Her hand trembles a little as she pours herself a cup. “You could, you know, come if you want.”

I take another plate and rinse it, considering my options. There’s nothing more I’d rather do than see this kid that just came into my life sing or play the trombone or whatever it is he does. Because he deserves to have a man there watching him, encouraging him, showing him what it means to be a man. But it’s not that easy.

“I have meetings and interviews tomorrow and my schedule is blocked until at least seven. What time is it?”

“Six.”

My spirits sink. Even if I could’ve made it, I don’t know if it would be the right thing to be seen publicly at his school. I have no idea where to draw the line at this type of thing at this point in our relationship.

“Maybe another night,” Hux offers, watching my face.

A long silence stretches over the kitchen before Alison clears her throat. Huxley and I both look at her.

“You know those season tickets we got for the Hawks games?” she says to her son. Hux’s head bounces up and down. “Those were a gift,” Alison tells him, “from Barrett.”

Huxley swings to face me, his eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. “Really? You gave those to us?”

I didn’t realize she hadn’t told him that little piece of the puzzle, and I’d have been fine if she hadn’t. But I have to admit, seeing this look on his face is priceless.

“I did. I hope you enjoy them.”

Before I know what’s happening, I’m enclosed in a set of 10-year-old arms. His hands are wet from the dishwater, but the feeling of his face pressed into my stomach is worth it.

Chuckling, I look at Alison. Her eyes are damp with unshed tears, her hand over her mouth.

“Thank you,” Hux says, pulling back. “It’s the best thing anyone has ever given me.”

“You are so welcome,” I choke out, his gratitude making my throat squeeze shut. “Maybe I could take you to a game or two. We can leave Mom at home.”

“Really?”

“If you’d like that.”

“Yeah!” he says, pulling the plug from the sink and then drying off his hands. “That would be awesome.”

He flashes me a huge smile before racing out the back door. Alison stands by my side and we watch him ride his bike around the back yard. I think how far he could ride at the Farm, how much fun he would have in all that space.

“He’s a great kid,” I comment as he ditches the bike for his mitt.

“Yeah, I’m partial to him.”

“Do you want more?”

“More of what?” she asks, looking up at me.

“Kids.”

She shrugs, her eyes just a touch wider than before. “I don’t know. Maybe. I haven’t really thought about it.”

“Why haven’t you? It’s a normal thing, right?”

“Yeah, if you’re in a relationship. I’ve been divorced for awhile now, and believe it or not, it’s harder than you think to find someone when you have a kid.”

“Good thing you found me then,” I wink.

I don’t push the kid issue because I don’t even know how I feel about it for sure. It’s not something I’ve thought a lot about specifically, but looking at her, I think I know the answer.

“I have a charity event in a couple of days. It’s something my parents put on every year and I can’t get out of it. The Garalent Gala,” I say. “It’s named after my mother’s family. Proceeds benefit Alzheimer’s.”

“Sounds fun,” she says, sipping her coffee.

My stomach churns a bit when I realize I always take Daphne to the Gala, and I’ve committed to doing that again this year.

Looking at her sweet face, I figure I’ll get out of it.

“Want to come with me?” I ask.

“I can’t,” she replies easily. “I have to work.”

“Alison, please.”

She places her mug on the table and her hands go to her hips. “Please what?”

I blow out a breath, sensing the argument that’s right there for the taking. I don’t want to fight with her, but I do want things to start trending to what they are going to be.

“Can we talk really plainly for a minute?” I ask.

“Sure. Shoot.”

“I think we both know where this is heading.”

“This as in ...”

I shake my head. “This as in me and you. And Huxley too.” I lean against the sink, feeling my shirt get wet, but not caring. “Once this election is over, I really want us to take the next step.”

She forces a swallow and takes a seat at the table. “As in what?”

“As in us being together.” The words sound odd coming from my mouth, but I’ve never meant anything more. “I want to take care of you guys, try to be the man in both of your lives. You know, whatever that means.”

“We don’t need someone to take care of us, Barrett.”

I blow out a long breath. “Fine then. I need someone to take care of me, and I’d like you to be the one to do that.”

She watches me but doesn’t speak. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, so I keep talking to try to sway her to my side.

“This thing is over with in less than a week. For a lot of reasons, including the one that you won’t need to work in catering anymore, another being I’d rather be comfortable knowing you’re home and safe for these last few days, I really wish you’d consider quitting Luxor.”

“No.”

I’m shocked by the quickness, the simplicity of her answer. “No? Just ... .no?”

“No. I’m not quitting my job for anyone, not even you.”

“Why? That’s just dumb.”

She laughs, but she doesn’t find it funny. I can see that in her eyes. “I gave everything up once for a man. I put my dreams, my goals on hold to get him ahead, and once he did ... poof. He was gone. And I had a child and a little divorce money that felt like severance pay. Never again, Barrett. Never again.”

“So, what? If I’m elected, we’re moving to Atlanta and you’ll find a catering job there? That’s ridiculous.”

“First of all,” she says, standing again, her ferocity back, “you don’t know that you’ll be elected for sure. Second, if you are, we’ll have to figure it out then. Third, who said I’m moving with you? We haven’t, you know, talked about that.”

“I already know what I want. I want to take care of you, and I want you to be the girl that accompanies me to events and is home with dinner after work.”

She raises her brow.

“Or I’ll get us people,” I laugh, pulling her into me. “It doesn’t matter to me as long as I have you. And right now you working at Luxor makes me crazy and I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Why does Luxor bother you so much? You don’t have a problem with my other job or school, right?”

I glance at the ceiling as her fingertips trail down my neck and try to decide how to explain it to her. “Because I know how people treat the catering staff. I’ve seen it. The people at those events act like they’re above you somehow and when I think about that, about people talking down to you, I want to punch them in the face.”

“Noted.”

I sigh, resting my chin on her head. “But you’re still going to work, aren’t you?”

“Yup.”

“Noted,” I grumble.