Brandon had opened the door by the time they started up the steps. He’d apparently been watching and listening for their arrival. His blond hair was still damp from his shower, and he’d put on clean jeans, a shirt, and a lightweight pullover sweater for the occasion. She smiled at him in appreciation of his efforts.
“Will, this is Brandon Dillon, my son. Brandon, this is Will Anderson.”
Brandon grasped Will’s outstretched hand and shook it firmly. Jen felt her heart lurch at the grownup gesture. She wouldn’t have her baby boy much longer.
“I’m pleased to meet you, Brandon,” Will said warmly. “Your mother’s told me a lot about you.”
“Don’t believe any of it, Mr. Anderson.” Brandon grinned. “I’m not really that bad.”
Will laughed.
“Call me Will. Mr. Anderson makes me feel too old.”
“Okay, Will.”
They moved into the apartment, and Jen dropped her purse on the table just inside the door.
“Would you like something to drink?” she offered.
“No, thanks. Can I help you with the food?”
“Not a lot to do, but thanks anyway,” she said. “I’m just going to grill some chicken and bake some potatoes in the microwave. Why don’t you two get acquainted?”
“How can we do that, Mom?” Brandon grinned mischievously. “You told me not to bug him with questions.”
“Come on, Brandon,” Will said. “Let’s take a walk. You can show me your neighborhood. And forget what your mother said. Bug me all you want.”
“All right!”
Jen watched the two of them leave the apartment, Brandon chattering happily. She felt a strange mixture of emotions, both relief that they seemed to hit it off so well and an odd sensation of being left out. It was a male thing, she knew, a bond that the two of them were forging, and she knew Brandon needed that. Still, she’d had him to herself for so long that it felt strange to share him with someone, even for just an evening.
The salads were dished out, the potatoes baked and waiting, and the chicken breasts nearly ready to come off the grill by the time Will and Brandon returned to the house. She’d expected Will to be regaling her son with war stories about life as an FBI agent, but to her surprise, the two of them were discussing chess. Brandon had learned to play the year before and had become good enough to join the chess club at the start of this school year.
“After we eat, I’ll play you a game,” Will said, “but I have to warn you, I’m pretty good. And I’m not going to let you win just to make your mother like me.”
“She likes you already,” Brandon said, “or else you wouldn’t be here. No other guy’s ever ate with us since Dad.”
Now I know why mothers beat their children, Jen thought, feeling her face redden. Judging from the look on his face, her thirteen-year old monster knew exactly what he’d done.
“Is that right?” The corners of Will’s mouth had turned up in that sexy close-mouthed smile of his. He looked infuriatingly pleased with himself. “I’m very glad to hear it.”
“The food’s getting cold.” Jen turned to the sink. “If you two want anything to eat, you’d better wash your hands.”
The two of them headed off to the bathroom, chuckling. In a few minutes, they were back, and the three of them sat down at the kitchen table. For the next twenty minutes, the conversation barely stopped long enough for them to dish food into their mouths. As she watched her son enjoying Will, she felt a pang. This is the way it should be for him, she thought. Boys need a man in their lives, especially as they grow into teenagers.
Watching Will interacting with her son made her feel warm and happy. Maybe, she thought, boys aren’t the only people who need a man in their lives.
He looked up at that moment, and their eyes met. As they stared into one another’s eyes, she knew they had just moved forward another step. He had passed the test that this meeting had been, and so had she and Brandon.
CHAPTER 23
At a quarter till eight, Jen left Will and Brandon at their chess game while she showered and dressed in slacks and a lightweight sweater for her night out at The Factory. By the time she’d finished, Brandon was groaning good-naturedly over his defeat.
“You’re a good player, Brandon,” Will said. “Better than most people who haven’t been playing any longer than you have.”
Brandon glowed under Will’s praise.
“You two get things picked up while I talk to Ada,” Jen said. “You know what time to go to bed, Brandon. I’m going to tell Ada to check.”
“Aw, Mom,” she heard Brandon grumble as she went out the door.
Ada Levinson’s apartment was directly across from Jen’s. Ada had lived in the building for nearly twenty-five years, the first twenty with her husband, Aaron. She was three months shy of her eightieth birthday, but she could have passed for ten years younger. She was a petite woman with gray hair, blue eyes, and plenty of wrinkles, but her back was straight, her eyes alert, and her mind sharp.
“Why, hello, Jen.” Ada opened the door at her knock. She was dressed in a pair of gray sweatpants and a white sweatshirt with the words “Warning: Parts Might Fall Off” emblazoned across the front. “Won’t you come in?”
“I’d love to, Ada, but I’ve got to run—as usual. I just wanted to remind you that I was going out.” She had stopped by Ada’s that morning on her way to work to ask if she could keep an eye on Brandon that evening. “I’ll be leaving in the next few minutes.”
“I’ll look in on him, don’t you worry.”
“I never do when you’re around.” Jen kissed the old lady on her soft, wrinkled cheek. “I don’t know what we’d
