It took someone with serious skill to get a blush out of Ernest Hemingway, but Abi had succeeded. A slight pink flush spread across his cheeks, and he smiled like a soppy teenager. "Oh. Well. So are you," he insisted.
He finished off arranging Charlie's snack and moved it to the table before he decided to make tea for himself and Abi to sit at the table with their little boy. He wasn't as good as Abi yet, but the more practice he was getting the better the tea was becoming. It was passable, at least.
Two mugs off tea in hand, he sat down at the table and waited on his family returning to see him.