I roll my eyes. “Yes, we have Dunkin’.”
He whines like a moody teenager. “You guys steal everything.”
“Behave or I won’t build you a bear.”
He grins. “Where do you want to go for shoes?”
“I want nice ones.”
“They don’t have to be?—”
“Don’t worry, I’m not buying them just for your fancy dinner.”
He nods. “Okay. You can get a decent pair at Target if you’re not planning on wearing them a lot.” An expression of triumph flashes across his face. “Hey, do you guys have Target?”
“No, actually, we don’t have that. We haveKaufland.”
“Kaufland.” Ben says, making a huge meal out of such a tiny word. “Hey, I got one.”
“Yes, congratulations, one-nil to the US for Target.”
He holds his hand up for a high-five.Dork.I slap it.
After a slightly stressful hunt through Target; a crowdedclothing/everything in the world store, I find a pair of cheap dress shoes that will do for now at least.
I’m sure Ben’s father will be able to tell the difference between real Italian craftsmanship and Target specials. But the main reason I wanted to buy them was so Ben will stop wearing his tennis shoes to dinner in solidarity. I’m sure his Italian loafers will be back on his feet tonight, reaching his father’s lofty expectations.
When we get back to the house, his mother is up and looking spritely for someone who partied all night.
“You guys were up bright and early,” she says.
Ben blushes. “Elias wanted to go to the mall.”
She glances at the Target bag in my hand. “Get anything nice?”
“Just underwear.”I don’t want her knowing the shoes I wear tonight are from Target.
“Oh.”
Ben gives me a look like,why did you just tell my mom you bought underwear?
“Everyone needs underwear,” I say with a grin, looking pointedly at Ben. His blush deepens.
“That’s true. I love the Victoria’s Secret at the mall.”
“Mom.”
“What? Moms wear underwear, too. Isn’t that right, Elias?”
“Right.”
“Let’s go and … do something else.” Ben says, dragging me out of the kitchen by the hand. He shoves me into the guest room and closes the door behind us. “Sorry about her.”
“She’s fine. I’m the one who brought up underwear.”
He looks at me, shoulders starting to shake, beforebursting out laughing. When he stops, we share a lingering look.
“Do you think we have time for a quickie before dinner?” I ask.
