Five Days

Day Two

Stevie was fairly certain she could count the number of dinners she'd shared with Lindsey's family on one hand. On one finger, in fact, considering that last night had been the first... All her anxiety had left as soon as she realized the presence of the three children meant that the burden of conversation would not be put upon the adults but that stories of sport and school friends and a newly released music video by a popstar she'd not heard of would dominate chatter at the dinner table. They attempted to occasionally bring her into the conversation with all the subtlety of a herd of (very well-meaning) stampeding buffalo and she had been glad for it.

However, tonight Will and Leelee were out visiting friends and Stella was fairly quiet, focusing on eating her nachos with an intensity that made Stevie smile. And so Kristen, Lindsey and her were attempting to make small talk. Awkwardly.

After a five minute discussion of the importance of contrast and balance in decorating, Stella sighed melodramatically and dropped her fork beside her now empty plate. Lindsey caught Stevie's eye and she grinned to herself as she continued watching the ever-increasing signs of boredom in her ex's youngest daughter. She choked back a laugh and tried to ignore Lindsey as he looked at her with mock frustration.

"Alright there, Miss Nicks?" he teased, smiling softly at her.

"As ever."

"What were you laughing at?" Stella asked bluntly, curiosity in her eyes, plate and fork forgotten in light of the interaction taking place.

Stevie was fairly sure the seven year old hadn't inherited Lindsey's tendency towards indirectness and couching questions in meandering pompous statements... "You just reminded me of something. I was just laughing because of how patient your father is these days."

"Patient?"

"Sometimes, I would yawn loudly at dinnertime when I got bored and your dad would give me a big telling off."

"Was it his fault you were bored?" Stella questioned, smiling cheekily.

"Of course."

"Well, that was rude of him." She paused, glanced at her mother then continued. "Did you have dinner with Dad a lot?"

"Unfortunately for him and his moods, every night for years."

"Oh."

"Best years of my life," Lindsey interjected. "Stevie was a pretty good cook back then, Stel."

"Unlike you, Mr 'how-do-I-make-the-coffee-Stevie?' Buckingham." She turned to his daughter, trying to ignore the hurt that was barely disguised on Kristen's face. "He barely stepped foot in our kitchen, sweetie, and I for one was glad for it."

Stevie didn't miss his occasional forays into their kitchen. But right now, as she relished the feeling of warmth and family and teasing affection, she missed the fact that, once upon a time, it had been THEIR kitchen.

Now she was an interloper. And she hated it even as she cherished every moment of it.