Dad’s face came into view, a baseball cap covering his gray hair. “Eli? It’s good to see you, son. What are the odds for the game tomorrow?” He gave a sly grin.
“Dad, I don’t get involved in that. It’s against the rules. I don’t even want to discuss it.” I chuckled. It was the same old shit from Dad.
Dad shifted his blue-eyed gaze. “Wren? I remember you. You used to hang around here a lot.”
“I did.” He shot a look at me.
“He was my boyfriend back then, but I wasn’t out.” There was no point in explaining it now. “Anyway, we’re boyfriends again, and he’s on the cheering squad.” I breathed a sigh.
“A cheerleader, huh?” He lowered his brows. “So, you do what? Throw the girls in the air?”
“Yes, and dance and do tumbling.” Wren gave a stuttered chuckle.
I wouldn’t let Dad respond to that. He still held on to his old-fashioned ideas about certain things. “Anyway, Dad, we were just calling to wish you all a happy Thanksgiving. We’ll see you in a few weeks for Christmas.”
“Oh, yes. I’m looking forward to it.” Dad winked at me.
The phone shifted to Harper, thank God. “Mom’s cutting pumpkin pie, so we’re about to eat dessert.”
“Okay, it was great talking with you, and good luck at regionals.” A smile worked across my mouth. She knew the best moment to snatch the phone from Dad.
“And good luck with your last game tomorrow. Can’t wait to see you guys.” She blew a kiss onto the screen.
In the background, Mom called out, “Bye, boys. See you soon and love ya.”
“Love you.” With my smile widening, I ended the call and took a deep breath. “Okay, two families down and one to go.” I set my gaze on Wren.
“They are funny. Your dad especially.” Clicking his tongue, he said, “He’s an interesting guy.”
“That’s a good way to put it.” I kissed Wren’s cheek. “At least he’s speaking to me and?—”
“He’s trying, babe. Now if my father would just try…” He hung his head and lifted his phone. “How should I start?”
“Try wishing him a happy Thanksgiving first and let’s see ifhe says anything about the baby.” Would his father even answer the phone? I pursed my lips.
“Okay, here goes nothing. Following this, I may get very drunk.” He wrinkled his forehead.
“Yeah? We have some whiskey in the cupboard. It’s Malik’s, but I’m sure he won’t mind.” I inched closer to him, focusing on his phone. “You ready?”
“Yep.” He pulled up his dad’s number and called.
The phone rang several times.
As he hovered his thumb over the red button to end the call, he said, “I don’t think?—”
“Hello?” his dad asked with a baby crying in the background.
“Dad?” Wren set the phone on speaker. “Uh, happy Thanksgiving. It’s Wren and I’m here with Eli. I have you on speaker.” He widened his eyes, and his breath quickened.
I dropped my arm from his shoulders and squeezed his free hand. He was terrified. “Hello, Darren. How’s your Thanksgiving?”
“Oh, it’s been hectic,” Darren said. “Um, Stuart was born about four, or maybe five days ago. I suppose you can hear him crying. Karen tried to settle him for a nap.”
“Yes, I can hear him.” Scraping his teeth over his lower lip, his gaze snapped to mine. “How is he?”
He wasn’t mentioning his mom. Good. I up-nodded at him, letting him know he was on the right track.
“He’s doing well. He’s a little jaundiced, but I guess that happens,” Darren said.
