Page 21 of The Chad Next Door
Chad picks up another noodle and carefully places it above Zelda’s lip to match him, and she starts laughing so hard that she collapses against his chest. When he wraps an arm around her and pulls her in for a hug, I’m pretty sure my soul leaves my body.
Here lies Hope Duncan: died of cuteness overload.
Chad looks up, and at some point I must have stepped out from the hall because his eyes go wide at the same time the noodles fall from his face. “Hope!” His voice cracks, and he immediately drops his gaze. “Uh, we were just waiting until you were done. The food is ready, but, uh, you’re clearly not.”
Why am I still standing in plain view? I slip into the dim living room and head for my stuff, feeling way calmer than I would have expected. Honestly, this could have gone so much worse, and it’s nice to know he’s a decent guy who won’t try to catch a peek as I dig through my suitcase and grab the first clothes I can find.
“I still need to buy a dresser,” I explain as I dart back into the hallway.
Right before I close the bathroom door, Chad mutters, “Must be on the list.”
When I emerge fully clothed, Chad has set both kids up with a plate full of spaghetti (with a lot of veggies in the sauce, I notice) and some garlic toast (which I did not have ingredients for). Both kids—even Link—are chowing down while Chad leans his elbows on the counter across from them and tells them some kind of story. I walk in slowly so I don’t interrupt, but that doesn’t mean Chad doesn’t notice me. His eyes travel from my head to my toes as I approach, but it’s so quick that I almost miss it.
I could never miss the zing from his gaze, though, and this has officially become the weirdest day. It started with Zelda screaming and Link sobbing (like it has all week), and now it looks like it’s ending with a giggly family dinner way better than anything I would prepare on my own, and Chad’s eyes giving me the visual equivalent of a classy kiss on the hand. Without missing a beat in his story, he hands me a plate loaded with the best-looking spaghetti I’ve ever seen and keeps talking to my enthralled kids.
“And then Houston had the bright idea to pull off one of his shoes and get rid of the spider once and for all.”
“Did he kill it?” Zelda asks through a mouthful of noodles.
Chad slams his hand on the table, making us all jump. Then he grins. “He missed. And do you know what the spider did?”
Link shakes his head, eyes wide.
“It jumped right onto his hand, trying to get away from the killer shoe! Houston ran outside screaming and shook his hand so hard that the spider flew off, and he’s been afraid of them ever since.”
I’m a little worried Link and Zelda will now be afraid of spiders too, but Chad isn’t done with his story.
He puts his hand on an upside-down cup that’s sitting on the counter nearby. “That’s why it’s always better to take them outside instead of trying to hurt them. They just want to live their lives in peace.”
“Can we take it outside right now?” Zelda asks.
That’s when I figure it out, and I nearly drop my plate. Chad’s hand is there to catch it, his palm cupping around the back of my hand as he steadies my food before it ends up on the floor. He barely even looked at me, so I have to wonder if he anticipated that reaction. Who in the world is this guy?
“Yes, there’s a spider under there,” he tells me calmly, and he meets my terrified gaze. “I’ll take it outside on my way out.” His stare calms me down pretty quickly, or at least calms my spider fear because my heart is still pounding. I’m blaming that on the warmth of his hand under mine. And the way he’s somehow so good with these kids despite my initial assessment of him. And the soft blue of his eyes that have me mesmerized.
“You’re a spider tamer too?” I whisper, sounding ridiculously breathless considering I’m just standing here. “I would have screamed if I saw it.”
He smiles, though it’s nothing like the grin he gave me on the road last week. Still, I like this smile. It’s gentle, like the bridge between the rough and gruff man I met when we got here and the guy who will wear a noodle mustache to entertain a kid. “I know,” he says, his voice rumbling. “I figured I’d save myself the trip.”
“Chad, are you and Hope going to kiss?”
I would havedefinitelydropped my plate if Chad wasn’t holding it with me. Of all the things Zelda could have said right now, why did it have to be that?
Somehow, Chad barely reacts. He takes my plate from me and sets it safely on the counter, and then he gives his full attention to the seven-year-old who is doing her very best to give me gray hair before I hit twenty-five. “Only people who love each other kiss,” he says matter-of-factly.
Zelda glances between us. “Don’t you guys love each other?”
Oh, could this get any worse? “We barely know each other,” I argue.
“But you look at him like you love him!”
I drop my face into my hands. I didn’t think I would be explaining the concept of love to either of these kids anytime soon, but apparently that’s what I get to do tonight.
“I know it’s confusing,” Chad says. I look up, curious about how he’s going to handle this. “But you love your brother, right?”
Zelda looks at Link and then nods. “Yeah, but I don’t want to kiss him.”
“And I love Duke, but I don’t want to kiss him either. There are all different kinds of love. When it comes to kissing, I only kiss people I want to marry.”
