“Perfect. And don’t worry, I plan to take Wyatt to the park with a buddy to give you two a little alone time.” Her brows waggle, and I refrain from smacking them right off her face.
“There’s no need to make any arrangements. Wyatt can stay. And he can wear whatever he wants.”
Lindy just laughs. “How are you going to get a little action if Wyatt’s around?”
I swallow and produce one word: “Boundaries.”
But Lindy is still giggling like she hasn’t heard what I’ve said.
Sure, I lost my mind and invited the man here. Sure, I kissed him silly in that lady’s locker room. But Wyatt is my safety net. He’s the only one that will force me to keep my head straight.
“I’ve got it covered.” She winks, leaving with my favorite shirt in hand.
An hour later, we are upstairs, waiting for Wyatt to model his oversized Lucca jersey. It’s going to look like a dress, but he’s utterly pleased that he gets to wear it the entire day. He’s tried it on before, but I haven’t let him wear it to school or all day long, reminding him that it’s special, that Lucca signed it for him. But today is the exception. Even my mother is anxious to show me the peanut butter cookies she made just for Lucca.
“Mom baked?” I look at Lindy the minute Mom leaves the kitchen. Mom hasn’t baked in years.
“Just wait,” she says. “Dad is busting out his collection as we speak.”
My breath hitches. “Which one?”
“I have no idea. He mentionedDiego.” She shrugs.
I cover my mouth. “Diego Maradona,” I whisper, eyes grazing over the flowers on my mother’s kitchen tiles. “He bought a shin guard from someone on eBay who claimed it belonged to him.”
Lindy wrinkles her nose. “Did it?”
“I don’t know! But he thinks it did. He’s got one supposed shin guard from Maradona and a plastic straw he is certain Ronaldo used.”
“That’s the entire collection?” How does she not know this?
“Yes,” I deadpan. “At least, for his soccer collection.” He’s got a dozen more.
“Well, maybe Lucca will bring him a shoelace or a stick of gum from his personal life, and Dad’s collection can grow.” She snickers, hands on her hips.
“That isn’t funny, Lindy. You know how Dad gets.”
“He’s a little crazy,” she says, picking up one of Mom’s bite-sized cookies and popping it into her mouth.
“He is not crazy. He’s just a little eccentric. It’s fine.” I breathe, calming my pounding heart. “I’m not trying to impress anyone. Dad can show him whatever he wants to.”
“Huh,” she grunts. “Well, the rest of us are.”
I exhale a shaky breath. “I noticed.”
“Ta-da!” Wyatt struts into the room, Lucca’s shirt hitting him at the shins. His ankles are on display, and he looks as if he has fully embraced wearing a dress.
“Wow! You look great.” I grin at the number three on the front.
Wyatt puffs out his chest. “Lucca’s gonna love it.”
“Buddy,” I say. “Do you have pants on?”
“The best part about this shirt, Aunt Maggie, is that you don’t even need pants.”
Ah. So, not even shorts, then.
“You might want pants on.” I wrinkle my nose. I’m not trying to rain on his parade.
