Shane McCallister won a place in her heart that very moment.
It took her a second to realize that Ricky was trying to get her attention. After a beat, she looked at him and he asked, “Can I go with him, Mama?”
Getting the boy to speak properly felt like a never-ending battle. “May I go with him,” Cris corrected him patiently.
The lesson was lost on Ricky. He took her words at face value.
“You wanna go, too? Then we can both go, right?” Ricky asked eagerly, swinging his little feet beneath the table. Any faster and Cris was certain he’d take off like a miniature helicopter.
“No, Ricky, I was just trying to correct your grammar. And no, you can’t go with Shane. You have homework to do and I’ve got more dinners to serve, so we’re both grounded.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Shane pause at the dining area’s threshold, turn around and wave to her and Ricky. She waved back, as did her son.
Cris stood there, firmly telling herself that her stomach hadn’t just leaped up in response, that if anything, it was only reacting to something she’d eaten earlier in the day.
But she knew she was making excuses. Poor ones, at that. They certainly weren’t convincing her of anything other than the fact that Shane’s proximity created mini tidal waves in her stomach.
Cris forced herself to focus on the immediate situation: she needed Ricky escorted back to his grandfather.
Glancing at the boy, she had a feeling that if she sent him off on his own the way she normally did, he would probably race after Shane and attempt to talk his way into going to the shelter with him. Most likely he’d tell Shane he had her blessings.
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