Wrong Place, Right Time(39)

I wait for him at the front door. He arrives with nothing in hand. “Don’t you want to take your pizzas?”

“What pizzas?”

I lean past him and look into the family room. The three boxes are still there. I point.

He shrugs. “Just empty boxes. I could put them in the recycle bin for you, if you want.”

“No, no, don’t worry about it.” I look from his toes to the top of his head. “I guess it does take a lot of calories to run that machine.”

“You know it.” He smiles. “So, I’ll give you a call about that dinner?”

I nod. “Sure. You can get my number from my sister.”

He winks at me. “I already did.”

I can’t think of what to say that won’t make me look and sound like a blushing, stammering schoolgirl, so I just smile. And then I grab the front door and pull it open for him. “Have a nice night.”

“You too.” He leans down and kisses me on the cheek so fast, I don’t even see it coming until it’s over.

My hand floats up to my cheek as he walks out onto the porch and down the front stairs to his waiting vehicle. It is the dead ugliest car I’ve ever seen in my entire life. So ugly it shocks me out of my happy, floaty cloud.

I laugh. “What is that thing?”

He turns around and walks backward. “What?”

I point at the banged-up beast in my driveway.

“My car? You’re kidding me. You don’t know what this is?”

I’m holding my cheek where he kissed me, smiling and shaking my head.

He pulls open the door, a loud creaking noise echoing all over my front yard and into the neighbors’ yards too.

“This, my young, naïve woman, is a Pontiac Phoenix. A classic. A real man’s car.”

I lift my brows as high as they’ll go before answering. “If you say so.” I slowly shut the door on his offended expression, and then I collapse in giggles in the front hallway. Damn. My face hurts, I’m smiling so hard. I haven’t felt this good or this young in a really long time.





CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I’m in the kitchen preparing eggs and bacon for the kids’ Monday morning breakfast when Sammy comes downstairs crying.

“What’s wrong, little man?” I put my spatula down on the counter next to the stovetop and turn to face him, squatting down so I can be at eye level with him.

“My tummy hurtth.” Big fat tears slide down his cheeks.

I rub his belly gently. “Are you sure?” I ask him this because he’s had a lot of these so-called tummy aches lately, but the doctor hasn’t found any medical reason for it. I’m starting to suspect there are issues at the daycare that Sammy’s not sharing with me.

“Yeth, I’m thure. And I don’t haffa poop tho don’t tell me to go thit on the toilet.”

I have to hold in my laughter. He looks so offended.

I nod. “I understand. But, you know, it doesn’t hurt to sit on the potty for a little while just to be sure.”

“I knew you were gonna thay that.” He puts his hands on his belly, rolls his eyes, and moans. “Ohhh, it hurtth!”

I let out a long sigh. I’m not even an hour into my day yet, and I’m already screwed. My boss is going to love this one.

“Would you like some eggs and bacon before you lie down?” If this is a false alarm, he’ll be tempted.

He shakes his head without hesitation. “No. My tummy really hurtths.”

I pick up the spatula and wave it at the entrance to the kitchen. “Okay. Go back to your room or go lie down on the couch in the family room, and I’ll bring you some of our special tea.”

“Okay, Mommy,” he says with the most pitiful voice I’ve ever heard. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

Aaaand my heart melts right there on the kitchen floor . . . This kid knows how to play me like a guitar virtuoso. Twang twang . . . and I’m toast.

Sophie wanders into the kitchen next. “What’s wrong with him?” my ten-year-old asks, gesturing at the little guy who just shuffled past her like a disinterested zombie, his pajama bottoms so long they tuck under his feet.

“He’s not feeling very well this morning.”

“Oh, boy, here we go again.” Sophie rolls her eyes.

I point at a seat with my spatula. “Sit. And be nice. He can’t help it that his stomach hurts.”

She drops her voice. “Mom, you know he’s totally faking it.”

I shake my head. “I don’t think so. Not this time, anyway.” I push some eggs around, wondering if anyone is going to eat them. They’re not looking so great.

She hisses out her disbelief. “Whatever.”