“No way. Hadley is there, and she looks at me all funny.”
I grin to myself. “Hadley is younger than you, probably with a little crush, and I’m not sure she’s there since Spencer has an away game this week, so April was going to take her to watch.”
“Exactly, it’s yuck that she has a crush on me.”
Brielle reaches to her side to touch Connor’s arm with affection. “It’s not yuck. It just means you are a handsome guy. And get used to it, because as you get older, then, well, I hate to tell ya, but the girls will be lining up.”
“Can we end this conversation? Next thing I know, you will be giving me the baby talk and how it has to happen later in life. Aunt Violet says you two are the exception and made me early, and you won’t let me forget it so I won’t become a dad in a few years.”
Brielle gives me wide eyes, with a look that is half-worried and half-entertained.
“Your Aunt Violet, to my surprise, makes a solid point.” Huh, my sister kind of nailed it. I tip my beer back for a sip.
“Tomorrow, can we just hang by the pool?” Connor drops his pizza on the plate.
Brielle nods. “Sounds good. I can study.”
“That big test,” he volleys.
“Exactly,” she says. “I have a really big test to take. Two days of tests, which is why you might spend a little extra time with your dad this summer,” Brielle explains.
I notice Pickles is resting at my feet. Hopefully, he doesn’t get too comfortable. “We’ll hold down the fort, and when your mom finishes her test, then we can celebrate.”
“Does that mean we are going to the jewelry store?” Connor innocently asks, but Brielle chokes on her drink.
She attempts to clear her throat. “Why do you say that?” Her voice is strained.
Our son looks at her. “Because that’s what we always do when it’s a special occasion. Geez, Mom, you know nobody at this table believes in Santa, so who do you think helped me pick out your Christmas necklace?”
A wry smile is now permanent on my lips, especially when I notice Brielle look down at the necklace she is playing with, the necklace from Connor.
“I mean, I assumed you had some help,” she says in an attempt to defuse this conversation.
I scratch my cheek. “How about you drop Pickles off, Connor? I’ll grab the ice cream from the freezer,” I suggest.
Connor stands up, and Pickles’ head perks up. “Come on, my parents are trying to get rid of me so they can whisper about me because they think I’m clueless.”
Hot damn, even I’m stuck on how to respond, and when I look at Brielle still with a frozen smile, then I know that I’m not alone.
Watching Connor walk away with the dog in tow, Brielle and I sigh a heavy breath of relief that we got away without addressing his comment.
“What do you think he meant?” I wonder.
“I don’t know, but that was my cue to open the wine.” She laughs.
Since I am ever the gentleman, I stand up to lean across the table to grab a bottle of white and pop the cork for her with an opener.
As I twist the top, I glance up to notice that Brielle is staring at me with deep fondness. “Yes?” I draw it out.
She holds up her glass, ready for me to pour the vino. “His remark about Christmas jewelry, it just has me thinking.”
“About?”
Probably the way that I used our son to ensure you wear a piece of me.
“He’s right. Santa didn’t help him buy expensive jewelry, and that if it hadn’t been a gift from him then I would have been adamant you returned it. Do you know what I think?”
I tip the bottle over her glass. “Go on.”
