Page 124 of Doughn't Let Me Go

“Because I’m your dad, Kyrie. I know everything.”

“You don’t knoweverything,” she argues.

“Do too.”

“Prove it. Tell me what I’m doing under the table right now.”

“You’re holding up a finger you’re definitelynotsupposed to be holding up.” His eyes are sharp, but I’m sitting close enough I can see the way his top lip twitches at his daughter’s bravery.

Kyrie’s cheeks redden, her little eyes growing two sizes. “Sorry. Uncle Winston does it all the time to Uncle Foster and their friend Sully.”

“Your uncles are awful influences. And Sully is your uncle too, you know.”

“Then how come he never talks to me?”

“Don’t take it personally,” he tells her. “He doesn’t talk much to anyone, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you. He always plays dolls with you when you ask, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah.” She sighs. “I guess that’s right. Uncle Sully, then.”

I drag the menu I don’t need to bother looking at over my mouth in an attempt to cover up my laugh at her logic.

Kids are a hoot.

A waiter appears at the end of the table to take our drink order, and Porter and I exchange a look when we see it’s the same one we had the last two times we were here.

“Good evening. I’m Brad. What can I get you started with to drink tonight? We have—” Realization dawns. “Hey! You’re both back again. Do you want your usual chocolate and strawberry shakes?”

“What! Dad! You’ve been coming here without me? Shakesandpizza?!” Kyrie throws herself down into the booth in the dramatic fashion only she can achieve. “You’re killing me!”

Fran looks between the two of us, a knowing smile on her face. “What an interesting tidbit.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything,” Brad mutters when Porter glares up at him.

“We will take our usual shakes, a small vanilla one for the little lady, and whatever Fran would like,” I say, cutting in before Porter murders the poor guy.

“I’ll do banana, please,” Fran says.

We all groan, including Brad.

“What? Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”

“You got it. Any appetizers? The usua—”

Brad cuts off his sentence when Porter’s glare returns.

“Right. I’ll just be right back with those shakes.”

He scurries off before Porter can maim him.

“I can’t believe you’ve been sneakin’ here without me, Dad.” Kyrie shakes her head, her hands folded across the table, a frown pulling her lips down. “That’s real messed up.”

“Hey, I only come here when you ditch me for your aunt and uncle. If you’d quit ditching me, you could actually come here with me. Butnoooo. You like Foster most, remember?”

“Actually,” I say, “I’mher favorite. I’m pretty sure you’re third.”

Kyrie turns her heated gaze to me. “You’vebeen sneaking here with him. You’re off my list too.” She leans her head against Fran’s arm. “Franny is my favorite now.”

“I knew it was just a matter of time until you saw the light.” Fran boops her nose. “Just for that, I’m baking you your favorite cookies.”

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