“You don’t have to thank me for dinner.”
Noah looked confused.
“Why?”
“Because you’re family to Tessa.”
He shook his head.
“We’re not family.”
I smiled.
“You are to her.”
He thought about that.
Then he asked, “Does that make us family to you?”
I looked at Tessa.
She was standing several feet away, already crying.
I swallowed.
“If your sister says so.”
Noah turned toward her.
“Tessa?”
She laughed through her tears.
“Yes.”
“Are we?”
She nodded.
“Yes.”
Noah smiled.
Then he ran across the grass and hugged her.
Evan followed more slowly.
Tessa wrapped both boys in her arms.
I looked away.
Some moments belonged to other people.
But there was another surprise waiting for me.
The following Friday, Tessa arrived at work carrying the same olive-green canvas bag.
She placed it on the kitchen counter.
I looked at it.
Then at her.
“You still have that bag.”
She smiled.
“Of course.”
“You know you can replace it.”
“I know.”
“Why don’t you?”
She opened it.
Inside was something different.
Three neatly packed dinners.
But they weren’t for her brothers.
They were for someone else.
She handed me one container.
“For you.”
I stared at it.
“What is this?”
“Dinner.”
“I have a chef.”
“I know.”
“He makes incredible food.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you giving me dinner?”
She shrugged.
“Because you work too much.”
I laughed.
“I own the company.”
“That doesn’t mean you eat properly.”
I looked inside the container.
Chicken.
Rice.
Vegetables.
Nothing luxurious.
Nothing expensive.
Just food.
Someone had finally packed something for me without expecting anything in return.
I looked at Tessa.
“You know, this is probably the first time anyone has ever put a homemade dinner in my hands.”
She smiled.
“Then you needed it.”
I nodded.
“Yes.”
