Finally, she laughed. “I was trying a new recipe. I don’t think it’s a good one.”
“Well, Jakedidsay he wanted McDonald’s tonight.”
“Is that why he was in a huff when he came in?”
“He claimed I promised him.”
“Nine going on fifteen,” Angela sighed. “Where’s this coming from all of a sudden?”
“No idea.” Noah wished he did. He’d been talking it over with his therapist, but she thought it was probably just a phase. “Well, I better go…”
“Actually,” Angela said. “Are you free?”
“Why?” Noah asked. Though he was. Truthfully, the night life of a divorced thirty-eight-year-old dad wasn’t particularly thrilling.
“Want to grab some Mickey D’s and have dinner with us? There’s something I want to talk to you about.”
She said it lightly, butthere’s something I want to talk to you aboutwas never good. It usually led toJake has the stomach fluorI ran into your mother at the grocery storeorI accidentally pulled the car into the garage too far and hit the freezer.
One time it wasI don’t think we should be married anymore.
But it sounded important, either way.
“Sure. I’ll go grab it.”
“Best. Day. Ever!” Jake pronounced before stuffing way too many fries into his mouth.
Now that he wasn’t mad at the whole world (but mostly Noah), he was back to smiling and laughing.
Jake had his mom’s smile—and her brains, thank goodness—but he had Noah’s big brown eyes, and Noah’s peachy complexion, and Noah’s thick hair, though Jake’s was more chestnut than black.
He also had a missing front tooth. He wedged a fry in the gap and showed it off. “I’m a narwhal!”
Noah snorted and mussed Jake’s hair. When Jake wasn’t raging against the unfairness of the world, he was Noah’s favorite person.
Well, he was Noah’s favorite person all the time, but it was certainly easier to get along with him when he wasn’t being a nine-year-old misanthrope.
After dinner, Jake wanted to go play with his Lego sets, but Angela asked him to wait.
“I’ve got something to discuss with the both of you.”
Noah’s burger turned into a spiky lump in his stomach. He swallowed. “Sure.”
“You know how we always talked about going to Italy? Back when we were married?”
Angela’s grandparents were Italian. Though they’d raised their kids—including Angela’s dad—in Kansas City, they’d moved back to Italy long before Angela and Noah had even met.
He and Angela had always talked about visiting them, with Jake, too. He was their first great-grandchild.
It never happened, though.
“Well, I think we should.”
“Should what?” Noah asked. She wasn’t seriously suggesting…
“I think we should go.”
“To Italy?” Jake asked. “Do they have macaroni and cheese there?”
