Page 38 of Who's Your Daddy
With a snort, she takes a step back. “I want nothing to do with your meat, Callahan Murphy.”
Excitement ping-pongs through me. I think Lola Caruso is flirting with me. With a wolfish grin, I open the first pizza box. “Which do you want, Mackster?”
He shakes his head. “That’s a no on the nickname.”
Lola laughs. “Good luck with that. I’ve been begging him to call me Lo for years.”
She steps up to grab a slice and as I slide out of her way, I duck somy lips are close to her ear. “Odd, I don’t remember you begging, and that’s definitely something I wouldn’t forget.”
Her sharp inhale is impossible to miss. Especially when I’m watching her every reaction. I can’t look away.
“Cal,” she hisses.
Shrugging, I head to the kitchen table with plates for Murphy and me.
“What do you guys want to drink?” Lola asks.
To my surprise, she holds up a bottle of wine and tilts it back and forth.
It’s a bottle of pinot noir and I note the brand she likes for future Cal. I’ve always known she likes good wine because my father always got that for her whenever he bought her presents, but I never knew which kind. Now that I do, I can take over that task.
“I’ll take water,” Murphy says. “Please,” he adds perfunctorily.
I stand. “Wine sounds good, need help?”
She shakes her head. “I got it.”
Bollocks. There are three of us. I refuse to let her carry over all the drinks on her own. By the time she’s got the wine bottle open, I’ve located the correct cabinet and have two empty wineglasses in one hand and a third regular glass filled with water in the other.
When she notices, she shakes her head but she’s smiling. “Thank you.”
“Did you make friends today?” Lola asks Murphy as she sits across from me.
He shrugs.
“What about your teacher? Was she nice?”
He shrugs again. “She’s getting me a different reading assignment.”
I straighten and zero in on him. “Why? Do you need help? We can get you help.”
I don’t know the first thing about his life. Did his mum read to him? What if he can’t read?
“Because I read the book we’re reading two years ago.”
Lola eyes me across the table, brows raised, and smiles. “It’s great that she noticed that. So you’re comfortable there?”
Wait?My heart stutters.Is my son a genius?What am I thinking? Of course he is.
“Is that why you were late today?” I ask before he can respond to Lola.
“Yeah.” He nods once, picking up his pizza.
“He was the last one out at the end of the day,” I explain to her. “I’d already been thinking about it, but that just cemented the idea. How about?—”
“Oh God,” Lola hangs her head, like she’s certain I’ll say something ridiculous.
But this is as brilliant as Murphy. “No, hear me out.” I pause for dramatic effect. When I have them waiting with bated breath, I hold my hands up and give them a little shake. “Walkie. Talkies.”
