Page 12 of Sporty Girls Don't Fall For Loners

I push the spoon away. “I don’t sing.”

“Neither do I. But that doesn’t matter.”

“Pass.”

“I love this part!” Mom pulls me along as she circles around the kitchen table. “When your dad and I were on one of his book tours, we found ourselves in this really shady area.”

“Because you insisted we go exploring and had no idea where we even were,” Dad says with a chuckle.

“You were the one driving, Rebel.”

He laughs again. “True.”

“And there was only one diner,” Mom continues. “Remember, Zane? It smelled like onions.”

“A very strong smell of onions.”

“But we were starving,” Mom continues. “So we decided to order something.”

Dad grins. “Remember their burgers, Bailey? This big.” He widens his hands as far as they can go. “One burger was enough to feed a family of four.”

“But gosh, it was delicious,” Mom says with a dreamy tone.

“And they played this song over and over again.” Dad walks to Mom and gathers her in his arms, then spins her around and presses her to his body, lips close to her ear. “There was nothing even remotely romantic about that place, but I experienced one of the most romantic days of my life.”

“Me, too.” Mom stretches her neck to kiss him. “Despite the loud music and the noise outside, it felt like it was just you and me in there.”

Dad smiles and rests his forehead on hers.

“Super romantic,” I mutter. “Can we eat now?”

Dad laughs. “I’m thankful our oldest doesn’t chase guys around like some of the other girls do. Maybe my dreams will come true and she’ll be my little girl forever.”

“Dad,” I groan. “You can’t say stuff like that anymore. You know what my teammates and the kids at school would say if they heard the quarterback’s dad talking like that? I’m not a little baby.”

“In my mind, you are.”

“It doesn’t matter what’s in your mind. What matters is reality, and the reality, Dad, is that I’m sixteen years old and no longer a little kid. And I’ve been playing football since middle school. Can you not mortify me? Thank you.”

“I’m going to embarrass her in front of her teammates this Friday,” he whispers to Mom with a chuckle.

Mom playfully slaps his chest. “Don’t you dare. My dad babied me when I was quarterback and I won’t let you do the same to Zoey.”

“Won’t let me, huh? You know I’m just kidding.” He buries his face in her hair and whispers something that makes her giggle and slap his chest again.

I roll my eyes and reach for the oven mitts. After grabbing the lasagna from the oven and placing it on the table, I sit down and place a huge helping on my plate. My parents finally turn off the music and join me.

“Delicious as always, Bailey,” Dad says as he stuffs his mouth.

“Super delicious,” I agree.

“Thanks,” Mom says with a smile. But then she lets out a breath and glances at Dad. He raises a brow at her. The expressions on their faces are totally different from only a few minutes ago. Before, they were happy and carefree and now they look uncertain.

“What?” I ask as I scoop up some cheese and sauce. “Why do you look like you have bad news to share?”

“It’s not bad news,” Mom says. “It’s great news, actually. We’re just not sure about a few things.”

“What’s going on?” I ask.

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