Gathered Up. Annabeth Albert

besides, we didn’t need to air our family business in front of them when they had way more serious problems to confront.

      “Bring him by,” I said sternly. “And we’ll talk more later.”

      “You know, tatlim, it is always better to be honest,” Ev said to Renee. Wait. She was tatlim, too? I was back to feeling muddled about what Ev felt about me and what whatever meant.

      Renee rolled her eyes at both of us and wasted no time in escaping as soon as her plate was empty. She didn’t even stick around for cake, which honestly was probably for the best. Her negative attitude had spread toxic vibes over the whole evening. She and I were going to have a long heart-to-heart very soon.

      She gave me an IOU card for an evening off bedtime duty on her way out and my frustration softened a bit. She knew me better than anyone. No way could I raise these kids without her help.

      Jonah shyly offered up the lumpy knit square he’d been working on all week. “It’s kind of a cross between a coaster and a towel and a scarf,” he said.

      “I love it,” I said and ruffled his hair.

      The twins both made me books with stick-figure pictures and uneven writing, and my throat burned as I thought about how much Mom had loved gifts like that. “Can I take these to work? Show them off?” I asked, my voice a bit gruffer than usual.

      “You should frame them,” Madison said confidently.

      “I don’t want people looking at mine,” Morgan said. “I made it just for you.”

      “Fair enough,” I said and turned my attention to the last package on the table. It was wrapped in shiny silver paper with a brown fabric ribbon with crisp corners and a perfect tape job worthy of a high-end department store. And it was exactly the wrong setting for Ev’s attention to detail to be turning me on, but then he glanced at the ribbon, and oh so subtly at my wrists, and I had to shift in the chair.

      “This is from Mira and me,” Ev said, clearing his throat as he glanced away from my wrists.

      “Oh, aşkim, you did most of the work,” she demurred. “I did a bit of finishing and blocking, that’s all.”

      I opened the package to reveal a pair of hand-knit socks—and unlike the muted earth tone palate Ev preferred for himself, these were a sensuous ocean of undulating blue and green stripes. They reminded me of the trip to Seaside I’d taken with some friends senior year—back before everything had gotten complicated. They seemed to radiate peacefulness and were so soft I had to resist the urge to put them to my face.

      “There is too much black in your wardrobe,” Ev said. “I would dress you in all blues if I could.”

      “Uh. Thanks.” I knew I was blushing. Ev seemed to have a thing for my eyes, which I swore were a normal, average shade of blue but which Ev called “arrestingly bright.” He liked to make me look at him while we were making out. And there I went, thinking about sex at the dinner table again.

      “I love the socks,” I said. I knew better than to ask how he’d guessed my foot size—knowing how sneaky he could be, he’d probably looked at my shoes last time they’d been on his floor, which was not something I needed the kids knowing.

      “They are not a sweater,” he said with far more gravity than necessary. “But I confess to having shared the pattern on my blog last night. I call it ‘Barista Blues.’”

      “You blogged about me?” Oh Ev, you marvelous bundle of contradictions.

      “I blogged about socks.” Ev looked away, cheeks turning pink.

      “Evren, you should show him the blog,” Mira urged. “My Evren is one of the most popular knitting bloggers. His fans all love the new pattern—”

      “Who would like to help me bring out the cake?” he asked the kids, effectively ending the discussion of his blog. That was fine. I might not have Renee or Jonah’s computer skills, but I could work some Google-fu on his name later. And I planned to tease the heck out of him about his fans, too.

      “I want to help!” Jonah said.

      “Most certainly,” Ev said, smiling at him. Silly guy. I could have predicted what happened next.

      “No, me!” Morgan made the sound of the mortally wounded.

      “No fair!” Madison tried to beat the other two around the table.

      All three chased after Ev into the kitchen.

      “I am so happy you and Evren are friends,” Mira said, shifting in her chair. She had barely eaten dinner, managing a bit of bread and a bit of yogurt sauce and a tiny dab of the warm hummuslike dish. “He needs someone like you in his life.”

      Someone with three kids and more baggage than PDX could hold? I didn’t think so, but I smiled politely. “He’s a great guy.”

      “And so are you.” She smiled expectantly at me, and I didn’t know what she wanted me to say. Did she want me to declare feelings for Ev that I wasn’t certain he returned? A future commitment? A whatever didn’t exactly bode well for the longevity of our friendship. I fingered the soft, fine yarn of the socks. Surely the care in them reflected something of Ev’s feelings right?

      Luckily, I was saved from answering Mira by the return of the kids and Ev. He was hovering over Jonas and Morgan, who were balancing the cake platter between them.

      “Hey, why does Jonas get to hold more?” Madison bumped Morgan, who jostled the platter.

      “Watch out!” Ev called as the platter tipped precariously. Next thing I knew, I was wearing the cake—icing in my hair, cake down my shirt, in my lap, and the rest landing on the pretty sky-blue tablecloth.

      “Ugh.” I groaned.

      “Oops.” Madison’s eyes went wider than the now empty cake plate.

      “Does this mean no dessert?” Jonas sounded close to tears.

      “I have some cookies. And a towel,” Ev said, way more pragmatically than I could have. I was surprised he didn’t get mad or scold the kids for not listening to him. Lord knew, I was still taking deep breaths and counting to fifty before I spoke.

      “I need a shower,” I said, finally finding my voice and an even tone as Ev handed me a faded towel to brush off the crumbs. Getting the worst of the cake mess off, though, did nothing about all the frosting in my hair.

      “You already had one. A crumb shower.” Ev laughed, and once he started laughing, we all joined in. It was pretty hilarious once you got over the whole no-cake-to-eat thing.

      “Chocolate-covered Brady,” Jonas said and set us all off laughing anew.

      “Evren, you will take young Brady and the children home,” Mira said, coughing between weak laughs. “And take your time, aşkim. Stay and help your friend out.”

      “You will be okay, Hala?” Ev asked.

      “I plan to take my medications, put on my show, and doze until tomorrow. I will be fine. You will see your friend home.”

      “All right.” Ev nodded, then gave me a smile that started both of us laughing again. It was a good, cleansing laugh, a balm against the awkwardness of Renee’s leaving in a huff, a buffer against the realities of Mira’s illness. Our eyes met and the laughter shifted to something hotter, the latent heat between us rising again. I gave him a sly smile as I started scheming how I could get my lips on him again. Screw cake—it was Ev I’d been craving all along.