Page 102 of Stuck With You
I want to know what she was about to say.
Roxie isn’t wrong. Sarah is crazy beautiful, but it’s clear that she wants to be seen for more than that.
“What’s a m-mutt?” Ollie asks, zipping his jet through the air.
The room goes silent as we all stare at Ollie and his innocent question.
“Hey, Ol,” I say, catching his attention. “Let me see what you’ve got.”
Roxie releases him, and he hops off her lap. Her eyes run over me before she returns to the conversation that’s morphed into Krissy’s new townhouse and decorating ideas.
I squat, and Ollie hands me his jet. “This is cool.”
“It’s s-s-super fast.” He pushes it off my palm, and it takes off. “Can we go outside and play?”
This kid and I understand each other. “Uh . . .”
“Put your coat on,” Sarah says, and my gaze snaps to hers. I want to ask her where her coat is, just to see her reaction. As if she can tellwhat I’m thinking, her eyelids drop slightly as she presses her lips together, trying not to smile.
My skin warms, and I need some air. I stand, feeling Ollie’s little fingers latch on to mine as we head for the back door.
“We’ll come with you.”
I glance over my shoulder at Carson and Trig following. I want to laugh my ass off, but I hold it in until we make it into the garage.
“So, would you two like to explain to me again how to make conversation and socialize?”
Trig makes a clicking noise with his mouth. “Man, we didn’t have anything to contribute to Krissy’s decor choices. We just need to know when we’re hauling her shit to the new place.”
“That’s a bad word,” Ollie says, picking up the baseball I scrounged up the weekend they stayed. He tosses it gently in his little hands.
“Sorry, little man,” Trig says.
“It’s ok. Mama says it s-s-sometimes, too.”
Carson turns on the TV over the workbench, and sports news fills the air, along with the smoke filtering into the garage from the smoker.
“Can I see those?” Ollie points to the classic Hot Wheels I collected as a kid that now sit lined up on a shelf.
I lift him, and he runs his fingers over each one as Wind joins us.
“Don’t go in there? Krissy’s telling labor stories.” He shivers, lifting the lid on the smoker to check the turkey.
“What’s this one?” Ollie holds the tiny, forest-green car.
“That’s a ’68 Mustang. My mom gave it to me, and it’s my favorite. You know why?”
He shakes his head.
“It’s called Bullitt, but see this here?” I point to the slanted back of the car. “It’s a fastback. The most high-performance styled Mustang.”
He makes it do a burnout and then races across the shelf.
The garage door opens again, and Roxie steps out this time. She glances around the space. “Well, this is quite the man cave, but spare me the burping and farting.”
Ollie giggles, picking up another car.
“We’ll try, but we make no promises,” Carson says.
