She puts a huge bowl of salad on the table. “May I ask why you have an industrial-sized bag of shredded cheese?”
I laugh. “Christian’s go-to after school snack is nachos. He layers chips and cheese on a plate and microwaves it.”
“Nachos are fire,” Christian says, scooping a large portion of lasagna onto his plate.
“I want nachos,” Amelia says around a bite of garlic bread.
“I’ll make them for you, squirt.”
My brow lifts. Christian seems to have adopted Bug’s nickname for Amelia.
I bite into the lasagna, and my eyes roll to the heavens. “I can’t believe I had all the ingredients for this. It’s really good.”
Kenna’s cheeks pink and she smiles. Should I tell her she has a piece of lettuce in her teeth? I decide against it because she looks so darn adorable.
When I realize my pants are getting tight in the crotch, and how inappropriate that is with three kids sitting at the table, I quickly find a more appropriate—and mundane—topic. “I’ll leave you my car tomorrow. I don’t do carpool again until Wednesday. I can walk, or one of my siblings can give me a ride to work if the weather’s still bad.”
Kenna’s head shakes vehemently. “Oh, I couldn’t.”
“Uber service around here is terrible. Dax used to be a driver, but couldn’t make squat. There’s just not that muchdemand.” I can tell she’s going to object again. “I tell you what. I’ll leave the keys on the counter. Use it or don’t, up to you.”
She holds my stare, her jaw shifting back and forth like she doesn’t know whether to argue or not. I raise a challenging brow. She rolls her eyes.
“So your brother used to be an Uber driver, huh? Was that back before you opened your business?”
“Actually, for the first few years, he was moonlighting. None of us were sure the shop would turn a profit. We took out a huge loan to make it happen. It was a big risk.”
“It obviously worked out, though. I mean, here you are.”
I sigh. “I suppose.”
Her head cocks. “Seems you should be happier talking about a business you built from scratch.”
I glance at Christian, who’s deep in conversation with Bug, and decide it’s safe to talk about it. “There’s a brand-new collision repair center that just opened across town.” My head shakes, still not wanting to believe it. “It’s going to eat into our meager profits. I mean, we do okay.” I wave my hand around, indicating the house. “Enough to afford this. But none of us will ever get rich. And that’s fine. That was never the point. We all love what we do. And working for ourselves is not something a lot of people get to do, so I’m truly grateful.”
“But…?”
I narrow my eyes at her.
She dabs the corner of her mouth with her napkin. “I can hear abutcoming. You love what you do, but…”
I sigh heavily. “But this was just incredibly bad timing. Like, the worst. That other shop opening now, this year…” My jaw stiffens and my lips form a thin line. “When we took out the loan years ago, we agreed on smaller payments up front as the shop was in its infancy, knowing the trade-off was going to be a large balloon payment.”
“And it’s coming due,” she says.
I nod. “This summer in fact.”
She looks sorry for me.
“It’s okay. It’ll be fine. Worst case, we refinance.”
“Today’s rates are a lot higher than they were years ago. Your payments could double even, and your loan will extend by what, ten more years? Twenty?”
I raise a brow.
She shrugs. “Personal finance classes.”
“Ah… right. You’re correct on all counts. But, hey, enough with the shop talk. I didn’t mean to ramble on about my problems.”
