I finally making an appearance. “And Gabby’s running shoes don’t fit, so we have to solve that before next week when she has indoor soccer in gym.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize it was so urgent,” Leona shoots back, smug and snug in velour.
Gabby pulls on Leona’s sleeve. “You should come! We’re getting sandwiches too.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah, at the place with the counter seats where you can watch them grill the sandwiches, you know what I mean?” Gabby transforms into a Mexican jumping bean, flipping, flopping, narrowly missing falling on the floor.
“We are, you want to join?”
“I’d love to.” Leona claps her hands. “Let me get my purse.”
That’s how I end up sitting at My Brother’s Hero, Leona on one side, Gabby on the other, the sandwich grill hot in front of us.
Gabby kicks her silver-and-gold running shoes around the bottom of her stool as she waits for her grilled cheese and fries, and doesn’t stop rambling for a second. “... and Billy said Lizzie was a dog. I told him that wasn’t nice, and he stuck his tongue out at me ...”
“Order up!” The guy behind the grill clangs the bell and yells for a food runner.
Basically, every single mom’s dream Friday night.
I sip my Diet Coke, listening to Gabby, and wait for the food, semi-counting the minutes until bedtime.
“Hey, look who the cat dragged in. Burn your dinner, chef guy?” The cook manning the grill steps away from his post and lifts his hand in the air to fist-bump someone standing behind me.
“Took the night off, tough guy.” His voice rumbles in my ear, his breath ruffling my hair.
This isn’t happening.
“You’re the guy from Halloween ... with the apples.” Gabby fully turns on her stool, having been distracted by the commotion behind her.
All of a sudden, I miss her endless rambling. Not her. She’s all smiles.
“Yes, I am.” Reid smiles back at my daughter as if she’s the apple of his eye. Ironic, in so many ways.
“Hi, I’m Leona.” She shoves her bosom and hand in his face.
“Reid.” He extends his hand, his gaze firmly on her face.
If Leona were a dog, her ears would be standing straight up and her nose would be twitching to get a whiff of Reid. “I’m sorry, how did you say you know each other?” She continues to ignore me; I’m nothing more than a fixture.
Reid clears his throat. “Um, we don’t really. We met once ... twice. I’m sorry, who did you say you were?”
My cheeks pink up. Mentally, I blame the grill.
“Reid, the usual?” the cook calls while plating our food, then slides it on the counter.
“Gabby, your food’s here,” I say, trying to divert her attention from Reid.
No such luck.
“I live next door to Gabby, here, and Andi,” Leona says, as if chaos isn’t roiling around her.
“Andi.” He twists, I turn, and our eyes meet.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey there. How are you?”
