Like with most decisions in my life, I thought of my mom and what she would tell me to do and sighed. “Come over. It should be ready in an hour. You can bring him and his friend if you want. I mean, I’m not Italian and my spaghetti isn’t amazing, but this little squirrel thinks it’s all right.”
“It’sgood,” my mini partner in crime chimed in.
Dallas’s mouth twitched as he glanced at the boy. “You think so, bud?”
Lou nodded, totally exaggerating. “Almost as good as chicken nuggets,” he confirmed.
“Better than chili?”
There was no hesitation. “No.”
I slanted him a look.
Raising his gaze back to me, my neighbor let out a sigh. “You sure about inviting them? He’s….” That hand went back to his collar to tug, exposing more of that brown ink over surprisingly tan skin. He swallowed a lot harder than I would expect he needed to do. “There’s a lot of sh—tuff you don’t know.”
I raised my hand, understanding his hesitation and knowing it was completely because Louie was with me. Whatever he wanted to say, he didn’t want to say in front of him. So I did what any adult would do—I put my hands over Louie’s ears. “He’s not going to kill us or anything, right?” I asked.
Dallas blew out a breath as the corners of his mouth bunched into a frown. “I’d never let that happen,” he stated so evenly, so matter-of-fact, this ripple of who-the-hell-knows-what shot up the nerves of my spine.
He’s just a nice guy. He’s married. He has a soft spot for single moms.
You are no one special, Diana, I reminded myself.You are no one special.
I cleared my throat and gave him a smile that was really fucking tight, my hands dropping from their spot on Louie’s ears. “Okay. Then, it’s fine. All three of you can come. We’re going to drop by Miss Pearl’s after this to invite her.”
“Sure?” Both of his eyebrows went up.
“Sure.”
* * *
“You smell like garlic.”
“You smell like fart.”
Louie choked like he couldn’t believe what I’d said before bursting out laughing, his hands busy holding several forks. “You’re mean!”
That had me grinning from across the table. “Okay, you smell like a cute fart. Like a little baby fart.”
“Babies smell.”
“When have you smelled a baby?”
“With Grandma and Grandpa.”
In the middle of setting the table, I stopped. “Are you lying to me?”
“No!”
I really doubted he’d smelled a baby—and really, babies smelled great most of the time, at least until you had to clean their diapers. I’d done my fair share of diaper duty, especially with Josh, but I was positive I’d done it with either a smile on my face or a grimace just because it smelled so awful. Formula poop was the worst.
“Speaking of your grandma and grandpa, don’t forget you’re staying with them for a week when I go visit Vanny, okay?” This was probably the third time I’d brought my trip up since buying my round-trip ticket to San Diego. I wanted him mentally prepared so he wouldn’t assume I was never coming back.
“Can I go with you?” he asked.
“Not this time.”
“Why?”
