Because I'm one satisfied woman when I'm being taken care like this. I mean, look at this spread! Instead of just having one dish for dinner, there's so many varieties as if it's a party.
"Stop! We're supposed to be mad!" Her whisper-shout makes me stop chewing the content in my mouth.
Oh shit. I really am a bad accomplice; I was too hungry since I skipped lunch that I accidentally took a bite of the chicken despite our pact to show our protest by not eating dinner.
I grin at her as I reluctantly put the drummet on my plate, "Sowwi."
She brings both arms to her chest and crosses them, swinging her head to the opposite direction, not wanting to look at me, "Hmph!"
"Princess Paoooooo," the male voice interrupts my attempt to coax the little girl, "Dondestaaaaas?"
I've been in this household long enough to know what that means; where are youuuu. As guessed, the 51 year old Hugo appears in the kitchen with a huge grin, "Ola my Princess Pao!"
She looks at him with an eye roll then hmph him with the same head swinging to the other direction. He jogs to her and hugs her tight, "I'm sorry I forgot."
My hand creeps to the drummet I was eating to get another bite while watching this repeat episode of sulking Princess Pao with always-forget-always-late Hugo, and of course, the angry Owen who's standing on the other side of this kitchen island.
Every Thursday and Friday Hugo is supposed to pick up Pao from her ballet class that's ending at 4pm. But he always, always forget or got caught up in meetings that Owen has to be the one who picks up the slack.
Though on days like today, when Owen was caught in his own meeting which is the infamous monthly board meeting, I'm the one who came to the rescue, to be the knight in shining armour.
Pao has her own nanny but before they move to New York, she made it a condition that her daddies will always send and pick her up from school or any extra classes. Too bad I'm becoming a permanent main character in her life that I am now next in line after her daddies.
So I'm the one who have to ditch work to pick her up, considering my office building is only five minutes walk from her class.
Though honestly, since eight months ago when these things happened, I've learned to clear my schedule every Thursday and Friday from 4pm onwards just so I can pick her up in case Hugo can't.
"Mi alma, mi vida, ayyy perdoname. (My soul, my life, forgive meee.)" He moves to his sulky husband after successfully coaxed the three year old who has now beginning to eat her dinner.
"How long do you think it will take this time?" Pao whispers to me as Hugo tries his best to tame his sulking spouse.
"Two minutes?" I entertain her question eventhough I'm getting uncomfortable with this situation.
It's fine if they wanna fight, because all couples fight. But to do it in front of their four year old every Thursday and Friday, well, that's a bit unhealthy.
"No, ten minutes. Believe me." She nods to herself, bringing the chicken to her lips.
I put on a fake smile as I take a glance at Owen who's still in his dress shirt and pants; he was too angry at Hugo for forgetting to pick up Pao that he didn't care about changing his clothes prior cooking dinner. Including the tie, or the shiny dress shoes.
Because I know how much he hates formal attire.
Owen used to be a different person; a much calmer, understanding man despite his anger towards something, or someone. But seeing him with Hugo, I notice he has changed a lot. Perhaps to match Hugo's energy who mouth-fights like a true Latino.
Thankfully his trait to cook like a madman when he's angry is still the same. Because I get to enjoy this spread while watching live telenovela featuring two married gay men.
"Oh God," he groans like he's in pain, "If you don't leave Santiago for him, I'll do it."
I laugh as both of us keep on watching the attractive guy sitting in front of us. The way he sits, or drinks that cup of coffee, it's like he's posing for a photo shoot.
"I want to be that cup."
My laughter got louder with my hand automatically flies to his firm biceps, playfully hit him.
We are both sitting at a cafe near the building where Pao's ballet class is, enjoying our tea time while waiting for her class to finish.
I'm supposed to have a meeting until 4 but he managed to persuade me to leave earlier for a hang out hence I wrapped up everything before 3.30, leaving half an hour for us to sit and chill before picking up Pao.
"He's too pretty." I fork the piece of cake we're sharing and bring it to my mouth. Too pretty, like Zac Efron pretty. But add a foot tall then we'll have him.
"If you think he's pretty now, imagine how pretty he is when he's on top of you."
I giggle hearing his comment, "If you think he's pretty on top of you, imagine how pretty he is when he's coming in you."
He nods repeatedly as he laughs, "Pretty face comes with pretty cock, I bet."
"I can't believe I left work early to talk about this with you." I sigh but also smile at the thought of how silly we are right now. Or have been since we called a truce on Pao's third birthday nine months ago.
"Oh come on, live a little. Ditch the workaholic in you, and wor-cock-holic with me here."
Both of us laugh like two mad person that the attractive guy we're snooping at turns to look at us. He doesn't seem fazed though, as he goes back to staring at his phone a second later.
"I'd date him for his genes," I continue once we've stopped laughing, "Too bad I'm infertile."
"I wanted to say ME, NEXT when you said you'd date him, but yeah, I don't have the right organ to produce a baby. So we're in the same boat, bestie."
I giggle as I near my hot cup of Green tea to toast his cup of Espresso that's already raised high enough for a cheers.
"Move along, nothing much to see here," he says as he puts his hot drink back on the saucer, "Just two exes turning besties in less than a year."
I scoff at his little announcement, "I can't believe you friend-zoned me."
"I didn't friend-zone you," he replies defensively, "I just family-zone you. Hah!"
I chuckle, rolling my eyes at the same time, "From being gay to being straight, back to being gay, now even announcing to the world how I got family-zoned. Oh God, Owen."
"Life's too short to pretend you're not gay." He raises his cup again as I laugh, but still I take my cup for another cheers.
"Last night Hugo told me he's hungry. When I was so fucking ready for bed. So you know what I told that son of a bitch?"
"Check the midnight snack on the counter, honey."
I laugh even before he finishes the story, because he did that so many times with me when I whined about wanting some chicken nuggets but too lazy to cook it. Only to find him naked on the kitchen counter, posing as my midnight snack. He looked even yummier than the chicken nugget itself. Damn it.
The vibration from his phone that is placed on the table stops him from his usual over-sharing, as both of us peek on the screen.
Elle with you?
I can't reach her.
Even my boyfriend texts him if my phone runs out of juice. The same goes to Hugo whenever Owen didn't answer his calls. It's like they both know we don't have other friends except each other.
Or the fact we spend too much time together.
"Do you want to answer this or me? Or we'll just call him?" He asks, picking up the phone.
"You answer him." I decide, as always. Since it's his phone, and Santiago texted him, not me. Even if he asked for me.
"Okay." His fingers run on the keyboard then a few seconds later he puts the phone back on the table.
"I told him we're picking up Pao. Drop by at my place for dinner since I'm cooking his favorite."
Oh yes, the five of us always have dinner together, mainly because Owen likes to cook as if he's serving a party of ten so Santiago and I always got invited at least once a week.
I love spending time with them but I find it shitty as well when the four of them speak Spanish while I stuff my mouth with food considering I have limited vocabulary in that language to participate in the conversation. And when they laugh, I laugh as well without knowing what the hell were they laughing about.
"Hey I'm gonna take a leak, reply him yourself okay." He says when he's already standing up, shoving the phone to my direction.
"What's your passcode?" Almost a year yet I never knew what's the numbers. I normally just wait for him to come back to reply the texts.
"0828." He replies before rushing to the restroom at the back.
0828? Wait. Wait a second. Wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait. Waaaait a second. 0-8-2-8? Is this a coincidence or uhh, 28th of August?
That's our wedding date.