Miss Denmark

fifty shades

Harry was far more interested in helping with the cooking then Owen. Alexander found a chair so he could reach the table. I had offered to cook. Owen and Harry and Julia were more comfortable around Alexander, which made perfect sense, so I'd offered to do the cooking.

I didn't trust Harry with knives, but he really wanted to help with the beef patties, so I let him and only thinned them a bit before grilling them on the pan.

"Can you go get Alexander and your siblings?" I asked.

Harry nodded, jumped off the chair and ran to the dining room.

I checked the food, and double checked the buns in the oven.

Julia was sitting on Alexander's lap, and Harry really wanted to help serve and present the food, so I helped him do that.

Marcus came and picked them up a little after seven.

"Dad!" Harry exclaimed and ran to the foyer. I heard him tell about his little cooking adventure.

Alexander held Owen's hand when they reached the foyer.

I kept in the background.

Alexander helped Julia into her clothes, Marcus helped Owen, and Harry was able to put on his jacket without help, even though he was busy talking.

And then, just as fast as they'd arrived, they were gone again.

Alexander looked at me when the elevator doors slid close. "Thank you for being here." He said.

I smiled. "You're welcome."

He walked around me and into the kitchen.

I followed and helped him clean what was left. He had kept the cookies I'd baked with Harry and Owen.

"Do you want to stay?" he asked me.

"For how long?" I asked.

He looked at me. "Until tomorrow?"

I smiled. "I don't have any other clothes." And what I wore smelled like cookie dough, chocolate and burger.

He briefly looked down my attire before meeting my gaze. "You can borrow something?"

That's where we were heading? "Okay." I said.

He smiled a crooked smile.

I went to the dining room and sat on the couch. They had put away their toys when Alexander had told them Marcus was on his way.

Alexander sat down next to me and handed me a soda. Bottle. Coca-Cola light.

"That's what you've ordered so don't accuse me for deciding you have to drink it," he said. It sounded like he was talking me away from the precipice. Or maybe just trying to avoid a fight.

I accepted the bottle. "Thank you." I said.

He looked out the windows.

"You're good with kids."

"No," he said.

I looked at him. "Yes?"