Page 102 of Until August
The August I knew wasn’t selfish. If anything, he was selfless.
So I dismissed her words and focused on the source. They’d come from a place of hurt and anger. Sasha still hadn’t forgiven August for abandoning them. He’d probably kept the drug dealing a secret and left her in the dark, so understandably it would have come as a shock.
My initial reaction would have been anger too.
But she was wrong about August. Her judgment was clouded by past mistakes, and she viewed him through a warped lens.
I probably should have kept my mouth shut. It wasn’t my place to defend August.
But still. Someone had to fight for him, and that someone was me.
As I crossed the beach, I checked the time.
Sage and August would be at the restaurant soon.
Last night, August told me he used to bring his son to work, and Sage loved it. So I insisted that he bring him in today and was surprised when he agreed.
Introducing me to his son seemed like a big deal.
I’d bought all the stuff to make homemade pizza and even visited my father’s shop for fresh mozzarella. Luckily, he’d been too busy to talk or ask any questions.
* * *
“Am I doing it right?” Sage asked. He was standing on a stepstool, wearing one of my aprons over his rash vest and board shorts, while he stretched out the pizza dough the way I showed him.
“You’re doing a great job,” I said, barely resisting the urge to hug and squeeze him tight. He was justthatcute with his blond surfer dude hair and big blue eyes. “I think you got your dad’s talent. You’re going to be a great chef one day too.”
His eyes widened into saucers. “You think my dad isgreat?”
“One of the best I’ve ever known.”
“What do you mean…oneof the best?” August joked.
I smacked his hand when he ripped off a piece of fresh mozzarella and tossed it into his mouth. “Your dad has a big ego,” I told Sage.
“What’s an ego?” he asked.
“What she’s trying to say,” August said, “is that she doesn’t know how she ever lived without me.”
I laughed, trying to hide how close to home he’d hit. “Youwouldthink that.” I spared him a quick glance. He was dressed in a t-shirt and board shorts, and his hair had dried into that messy, perfectly tousled style.
“So, how was the boat trip?” I directed my question to Sage, who was swirling a spoonful of tomato sauce onto his personal pizza.
“Great!” He ripped off pieces of mozzarella and scattered them on the pizza. Then tossed on some shredded provolone and a handful of toppings that I’d cut up before they arrived. “We saw all kinds of fishes, and we even saw a dolphin.”
“Wow. That sounds cool. Your dad’s pretty cool for taking you out on a boat.”
“Yep. But Captain was the driver. It’s his boat.”
Sage answered all my questions while the pizzas were in the oven.
When they were done, August sliced them and slid them onto plates while I grabbed three San Pellegrinos.
“Can we sit outside?” Sage asked.
“Sure can.” I’d agree to just about anything Sage asked.
I had no idea how parents disciplined kids when they looked up at you with those big hopeful eyes. I’d probably let my kids get away with murder.
