[UNEDITED]
"So the basis of the arrangement is I will pay for your last three years of medical school, pay you a generous monthly stipend and help you get into UW's internal residency program in exchange for-"
"-Sex" I cut him off frankly.
"Sex?" H...
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Lennox POV
"Look at you Lil Bit, I see you. Over here trying to impress your man." Christian looked over all of the food that I had prepared and laid out on the table.
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"Honestly, I was scared she'd burn the house down. Since when do you know how to cook?" Miles snickered.
"Since always." I rolled my eyes. I swear they act like some big ass kids.
I prepared tacos, like I said. I just happen to make three kinds of meat and plate everything on a charcuterie board. I also made a quesadilla platter for the younger kids cause I know how picky they can be. The last thing I prepared was grilled Mexican street corn, Elote. Though I didn't use a real grill. I used one of those George Foreman type things that Lina had near the stove.
"I didn't realize you were cooking so much, I would have offered to help." Lina gave me a sympathetic look. I'm still a little salty with her, she's the whole reason I got roped into this damn dinner.
"Well you can make the margaritas." I offered as I began to make Jayce-Lynn's plate. The kids are going to be set up in the living room in front of the TV with dinner trays, because Lord only knows what's bound to come out of Christian's mouth.
Beckham began to make his plate as well and immediately Ms. April gave me one of those looks. I bit my bottom lip trying to prevent myself from side-eyeing her. And so it begins.
I tried my best to ignore her and finished up with Jayce's plate, however, my efforts were in vain as she literally took the plate from Beckham's hands and told him I would get that. I usually never have any sort of conflict with Ms. April but for some reason, everyone is trying it tonight. I hurried and got Mia and Michelle's plates together and sent the three of them off to the living room. Now that the kids were all settled, I turned my attention back to Ms. April taking the plate from her.
"Ms. April, if Beckham wants to make his plate he can. We don't do that." I explained as sweetly and politely as I could muster.
"Why would you make my plate? You already cooked." Beckham muttered, clearly confused. Yet I couldn't be prouder because his logic was spot on.
