“They are. They are just called potatoes.” Dash nods sagely and pulls his phone from his pocket. “Alright, place your orders, teams.”
“Two orders of fries for Paul and get both him and me chicken marsala. I’d also like Rigatoni vodka. Garlic knots. Large Caesar. One is never enough.”
Dash types. “Two orders of fries. Got it and the rest. You really think salad counts as balance?”
“Shut up and order.”
He salutes me with his phone.
Claudia steps forward and takes my phone to look at the menu. “Eggplant parm. Side of broccoli rabe. Cup of the pasta fagioli. And… tiramisu.”
Dash stares. “If you can eat all that, I am going to be totally impressed.”
“I am breastfeeding,” she replies sweetly. “I could eat a house if I wanted.”
Dash holds up his hands. “Say less. Respect.”
I grin. “Good choice on the tiramisu.”
Her gaze flicks to mine. “You like tiramisu.”
“It is sacred. If they do it wrong, we riot.”
“Noted.”
Dash clears his throat loudly. “Anyway, I want chicken parm. Penne with sauce. Garlic knots. Caesar. Oh, and a cannoli. Actually, two cannoli. Actually, three because self-care.”
“You gonna eat all that,” I ask, “or whine halfway that you want more?”
“One time,” he mutters. “One time I was emotionally dehydrated.”
“Order the extra parm,” I say. “You regret it every time you don’t.”
He taps away. “For the record, delivery says one hour wait. That is tragic. I will just go get it.”
Claudia looks relieved. “Bless you. I would have chewed through drywall by then.”
“Can’t have that.” I wink.
She nudges me with her elbow. “I earned carbs.”
“You earned anything you want.” It slips out too soft. Too real. She freezes, flicks her eyes away, cheeks warming.
Dash pockets his keys. “Alright. I will go now. Keep the child alive and the house standing. And do not do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“Leave,” I tell him, pushing him toward the door.
He grins. “On it. Be back in thirty.”
He heads out, and as the door shuts, Claudia and I stand in the foyer.
“Eggplantparm,” I say softly.
She rolls her eyes and brushes past me, intentionally. “I need to feed my child before I eat sauce.”
While she does that, I grab a few things I know are hers, a diaper bag, a giant water bottle that’s pink, and Savannah’s car seat that seems to travel up and down the stairs with her. Clicks into the stroller, so I take that too.
TWELVE
