The Guy on the Left (The Underdogs, #2)(21)

When the waitress delivers our ticket, Parker places her card on the table.

“No way.” Most of the time, my pride speaks up and we argue about how she’s wealthy and childless and can afford it, but this time, I slam a twenty on the table and end the fight. “Troy is paying.”

A slow smile covers Parker’s lips as she wipes fake tears from her eyes. “I’m so proud of him.”

I haven’t told her that he’s been trying to step up, especially in the last year or so. Though she did chase him from my parking lot once, thinking it was a rare pop up on his part. When it came to Troy, I always wanted her to believe he was the bad guy, because to me, he was. But my mind is changing with his consistent efforts, the way he dotes on his son, his need to get along with me. He’s kept up his part of the bargain, and that’s enough for now.

“Which one are you thinking about?”

“Troy. I pray I’m not screwing up. I don’t know if I want someone capable of doing such a horrible thing to raise my son. You know?”

“I understand your grudge, I do, but people change, they grow up. What he did was a bold move. A move he wouldn’t make if he wasn’t serious. See it for what it is, he’s desperate to know Dante. And Dante’s old enough to deserve a choice. This is something Dante may not forgive you for later.”

“I know. I just hope I don’t regret it.”

Parker winks. “I have a good feeling.”

“Last time you had a good feeling, you had me wearing assless chaps.”

“And if I recall, that was a damned good night. Grand Girls stay Grand,” she holds up her glass in a toast, and I clink mine.

“4 Eva.”





Corry’s Quiche

Dog Groomer, New York



Makes 6 servings





45 minutes


1 Deep Dish Pie Shell


Line Pie Shell With:

Ham or Bacon – Cooked and Cubed

1/2 Cup Chopped Onion

1/4 Lb. Swiss or Cheddar Cheese – Shredded

Mix and pour evenly over ham and cheese:





2 Eggs


1 Cup Light Cream (Half & Half)

Salt

Pepper

Dash of Cayenne – if desired



Bake on bottom shelf of oven at 400 degrees for 35– 40 minutes.



Cool 5 minutes before cutting to serve.





Clarissa



“Good morning, birthday boy!” I stand at Dante’s door with a tray in hand as he sits up in his bed with a budding smile on his face. Once I bring the brightly lit pancakes into the room, his smile widens.

“Oh, wow, Mommy. Thank you!”

I set the breakfast tray across his lap. “You’re so welcome, Peanut. Happy Birthday. Make a wish.”

Dante closes his eyes, and it’s then I see his face, Troy’s face. It’s unreal how close they are in likeness. Anyone in the same room with them could easily draw the right conclusion, which makes me nervous. I’m not ready to uncap the truth just yet. It’s only been a couple months. I’ve decided to wait Troy out. Though he’s presenting himself in a capable and more responsible light, this is still new. He could get bored and decide family life is too mundane for him. If that’s the case, he’s still just a neighbor. It’s the safest way to play this.

Dante blows out the six candles easily.

“Are you going to tell me your wish?”

“Nope.”

“Good. I like that you’re superstitious.”

I smile down at him as he digs into his pancakes. “So tonight, Auntie Parker is coming over. Are you sure you don’t want to invite kids from your class to your party?”

“Nope. But can I invite Troy?”

“I’ve already invited him. He’s coming.”

He looks up at me. “You told him to come over?”

“Yeah, why not? He’s a new friend.”

“Is Troy your boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Because you’re too old?”

Blink.

Blink.

“Yes, because Mommy is old, and her skin’s no longer supple.”

“What’s stupple mean?”

“That’s supple. It means I’m a weathered old fart who has nothing on the coeds.”

“What’s a coed?”

“Eat your breakfast. I’ll pull a towel for your shower.” I kiss the crown of his head and leave him to it. He catches me on the way out.

“Mommy?”

“Yes, baby?”

“You’re still pretty, even if you’re old.”

“Dante, I’m twenty-nine. I’m not old.”

“How many times is that more than what I am?”

“Almost five.”

His eyes widen. “You’re five times as old as me?”

It’s a good thing we don’t build our self-esteem off kid compliments, I’d be under psychiatric care.

“Yes, Dante.”

“Well, if you want, I’ll pretend you aren’t old at my party.”

“I’m not old!”

“All right!”