“Jules…” he says, unconvinced.
“Race you back to the moped,” I say over my shoulder. “It’s almost time to go pick up Cameron. Wanna do another lap around town first?”
“Do we need to talk?” he asks me. “I feel like we need to talk.”
“Or maybe we should just go home. If we hurry, I’ll let you eat my ass for a quick dessert.” On those words, I take off running.
Yes. I ignore my husband’s very diplomatic suggestion and bait him with sex instead. Very mature, I know.
Lincoln’s growl rises into the air. I hear his heavy footsteps barreling after me.
I run as fast as I can, but he effortlessly catches up to me in seconds.
“Dammit, Lincoln. You’re supposed to let me win sometimes!” I shout.
He sweeps me into his arms, and the next thing I know, he’s tossed me over his shoulder. “Oh, come on. You should know me better than that by now.”
My breathless laughter floats up around the park as he races back to where my moped is parked.
This. I’ll just enjoy this. I’ll just enjoy the present moment.
My life may be a string of shitty dilemmas and less-than-ideal circumstances, but I’ll just enjoy this happy interlude until the day it all falls apart.
42
JULES
Worried skepticism creases Great-Grandma’s forehead as Cameron recklessly piles a hodgepodge of toppings on the dough. “Don’t you think we already have enough seasonings on our pizza, dear?”
An elderly lady ambles by, pushing her walker ahead of her. “Yes. Careful with those banana peppers, sonny. I accidentally ate a few of them the last time we made pizza here at the community center. My entire ass was on fire. I hadn’t sweat so much since I was a hooker working a twelve-hour shift back in the summer of ’73.”
Cameron blinks innocently at his father. “Dad, what’s a hooker?”
From a neighboring table, I glance over my back. I watch the way Lincoln’s eyes bulge in shock and his cheeks turn red at the question. “I…what, um…I don’t…”
Poor guy. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this frazzled before.
Luckily, Nadia Westbrook quickly swoops over to our corner of the room. “Delores!” she hisses. “What did I say about telling that story when there are kids around?” She flashes us a reassuring smile as she ushers the old woman away from ourtable. “Don’t worry about the peppers, guys. They’re not spicy at all.”
The charity gala is tonight. Lincoln and I will be meeting up with his associates and their wives. For now, we’re all here at the Sin Valley community center participating in a multi-generational cooking class. When I found out that pizza was on today’s menu, I couldn’t believe my luck. I justhadto get my great-grandmother here.
We all made the drive down from Fairy Bush yesterday evening. Lincoln rented an oversized minivan for the trip. Great-Grandma travels with an entourage so we needed to make sure that Cameron, Martha and Humphrey would be comfortable, too. Instead of getting a hotel room, Lincoln rented a small house for the weekend, so everyone has their own space.
I’ve never seen Great-Grandma smile so much. She’s been having a blast with Cameron, and Lincoln has been showering her with attention. She loves it.
Today at the community center, there are seniors, children and everyone in between, all chatting and laughing merrily as they prepare their pizzas. The conversations are loud and the good vibes practically pulse through the room.
For this activity, we’re paired in groups of three. I’m at a table with Martha and Humphrey, making a Hawaiian pizza topped with mozzarella, ham and pineapple bits.
I spread marinara sauce across the dough with a spoon, expertly pretending to mind my business. But I’m totally eavesdropping on the conversation that’s happening at the table behind me, where Lincoln, Cameron and Great-Grandma are working on their own pizza.
“I’m really glad you accepted to come along with us, Mrs. Lannister,” Lincoln is saying.
I hear the happiness in her voice when she replies. “When Julissa suggested the trip, I was doubtful. But it really has beenlovely getting out of the house and spending time with all of you.”
Humphrey leans over his shoulder to join the conversation at the neighboring table. “I’ve been telling you that for years. You need to get out of the house more, Jo Jo.”
Jo Jo?Huh?
