Page 34 of It's Always Sonny

I blink the memory away to see Lisa, Anthony, and Amber all nod. “He’s right, sweetie.” Lisa smiles at me. “Now why don’t you go wash your hands while we finish?”

“I really—”

“You really need to listen to the customer.” Lisa says this with such a teasing voice, and I want so badly to impress her. I nod and start for the kitchen.

With a quick glance behind me, I see Anthony talking to his son, brushing his hair in a “you rascal” kind of way …

And then he kisses his head.

He’s only five.

“What’s going on in that busy head of yours?” Sonny asks, following me to the kitchen.

“They were so patient.”

“I’m pretty sure I saw steam coming from Anthony’s ears. Felix is cute, but he is a menace. Anthony’s lost about what to do.”

“That was Anthony lost?”

“Amber’s a good influence on him, but yeah. He’s working on his temper.”

A strangled laugh escapes me. Sonny’s trying to explain his brother’s frustration like it needs to be excused rather than praised.

“If that’s a temper, sign me up.”

Chapter Eleven

Sonny

In the kitchen, Parker washes and dries her hands while I start rummaging through the metal cabinets. We find disposable plates and utensils. We take a few stacks of everything and start back for the pavilion.

“Thomas and Evelyn Emerson have tempers?” It’s bold of me to ask, at all, considering PJ so rarely talked about her parents. But the little she did say spoke volumes.

“Not tempers, per se, because they view emotion as coarse and vulgar. More like laser-focused icy rage.”

I stumble on a tree root, but I catch myself before I can fall. I wince in pain, but it’s not for my knee.

It’s for PJ.

“Are you hurt?” she asks quickly.

“My knee’s fine,” I say, even though it’s not quite true. “I was surprised. I’ve never heard you talk about your parents so openly.”

“You can blame the Janes for that. You’ve never seen so many emotional breakthroughs. It’s disgusting.”

My laugh comes out like a huff. “That sounds about right.” I think about how panicked she looked as she cleaned up after Felix. “You looked thrown back there with Felix. Were you … are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” she says. “I’ll have to get back to you.”

I’m torn between wanting to push her to open up more and wanting to distract her from the pain she’s clearly experiencing. I don’t know what to say or do anymore.

“Okay,” I say.

And she looks at me with wide eyes.

“Okay?” she asks. She looks almost disbelieving.

“Yeah. If that’s okay?”

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