Page 71 of Riding the Edge

Chapter Twenty-one

“There’s enough food here to feed a village,” my daughter-in-law, Adrianna, says as she pulls a tray of eggplant parmigiana from the oven. She’s not exaggerating. I’ve been cooking like it’s a holiday since early this morning.

After I woke up and noticed a bunch of missed calls, none of which were from Dr. Kennedy’s office, I decided to call the kids and ask them to come for dinner. I needed a dose of reality because my behavior yesterday was unacceptable. Technically, I wasn’t diagnosed with anything and here I was making my funeral arrangements. I’ve never played the wounded warrior and I’m not about to start now.

If the call came, and it was cancer, then it was cancer.

No more feeling sorry for myself.

And no more day-drinking on a Saturday.

Not only did I polish off two bottles of wine, but I also broke some of my favorite stemware.

I’d fight and win because I don’t know how to lose.

With my newfound confidence in place, I cleaned the house and started dinner. Once I had the sauce up, I started returning calls. I began with Anthony and then Lauren. By the time I was finished it was time for me to slice and bread the eggplant. At least that’s the excuse I told myself when I scrolled through the calls and stumbled upon the seven missed calls I had from Al. He had even text messaged me.

It’s not that I didn’t want to speak to him—in fact, it was quite the opposite. I was starting to realize I could fall hard for Al, harder than I’ve fallen for any other man, including my husband. It wouldn’t take long or much effort, just a few more quiet nights together and I’d be a goner. Whether he feels the same or not, the man deserves to know where I stand and why I’ve been so distant since he left my house Friday night. Once the kids leave, I’ll return his call and explain our timing is just off.

“Ma, where’d you put the Italian bread?” Anthony asks, popping his head into the kitchen.

“It’s already on the table,” I reply. Laying a hand on Adrianna’s shoulder, I tell her to go into the dining room with her husband. I grab the pasta bowl and start for the dining room when the doorbell rings.

“I’ll get it,” Lauren offers as she stands, rocking the baby in her arms. “Riggs, make the boys plates.”

“Make them plates? I can’t even get them to sit at the table,” he mutters as he chases Eric around the table. “Eric, don’t make me look like an idiot in front of your uncle.”

“Blame the kid,” Anthony retorts, taking his seat at the head of my table.

“Eric, come sit with grandma,” I call desperately. The last thing I need is for him or his father to run into my china cabinet. I’m already down two glasses.

“Don’t worry,” Riggs says. “I got this. You just worry about piling that spaghetti on my plate.”

“Grandma, can I have a meatball?” Luca asks.

“Me too!” Victoria chimes in.

Diverting my eyes away from the impending disaster their little cousin is about to cause, I smile at my two oldest grandchildren and load their plates. I’m just about to sit when Lauren enters the dining room and clears her throat.

“Look who it is,” Lauren announces. The first thing I notice is that she is no longer holding the baby and when she steps aside my eyes lock with the man who is.

“Uncle Wolf?” Eric shrieks from behind the china cabinet.

“Hey, buddy,” Al says, adjusting the baby in his arms to catch Eric as he runs straight for him.

“Well, this is a surprise,” Adrianna says, rising to her feet. “Come sit, I’ll grab another chair from the kitchen.”

“No, I don’t want to intrude on your dinner,” he says, meeting my gaze. “I didn’t realize you’d have a full house. I wanted to bring you your scarf,” he says.

“Her scarf?” Anthony questions.

“It’s a long story,” Al replies, tearing his eyes away from me. Glancing down at Eric, he tousles his hair. “Go sit next to your dad and eat dinner.”

“Can you stay? Grandma makes the best meatballs.”

“There’s plenty of food,” I add, watching as his gaze returns to me. “Stay for dinner.”

“Yay!” Eric calls. “Come sit next to me, Uncle Wolf.”

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