Page 22 of Stuck with my Guarded MVP
I glanced at my watch. Still time.
Set the note back down and grabbed two of the reusable grocery bags from the cabinet. Opened the fridge and got to work.
Mozzarella. Basil. Marinara. Pre-portioned dough. I moved quickly, grabbing mushrooms, shredded chicken, pepperoni, bell peppers. Options. Kids liked options, right? Do five and seven year olds even eat mushrooms?
I tossed them in anyway.
From the drawer below the oven, I pulled out the small personal pizza pans and dropped them into another grocery bag. My hands moved quickly, automatically, like gearing up before a game, but my chest felt tighter than before a game.
I grabbed my phone from the counter and stood still for a second. Rolled my shoulders back. Took one deep breath, then another. No big deal.
Just saving the world from take-out, three people at a time. Okay, the fact that they're three people very important to my new coach has amped the pressure, just a little.
In the elevator, I shifted the bags in my hands and press the floor number.
Maybe I should’ve just asked Arturo for a good pizza place and called it a day.
The elevator doors slid open, and I stepped out, bags in hand. I took a breath, steady, intentional, then walked to 2804 and rang the bell.
Muffled voices on the other side.
"Girls, don’t touch the door. I’ll get it," Claire’s voice called.
A small voice followed. "Don’t open it, Aunt Claire!"
I smiled, repeating it under my breath. "Aunt Claire."
Another voice chimed in, higher, excited. "It might be a vampire!"
"Or a big bear!" the first one added.
Claire again, sounding exasperated. "Girls, it’s not a vampire or a bear. It’s... one of your father’s players, his star goalie, actually."
The lock clicked. The door opened.
Claire stood there, eyebrows slightly raised. She didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at the bags, then back at me. One hand stayed on the doorknob, the other pressed lightly against the frame. Then she shifted her weight, angled her body slightly out of the doorway.
“What’s all this?” she glanced at the bags, and then at me.
I cleared my throat. “Ingredients for pizza.”
Claire's eyebrows raised, just slightly, “But…I thought you were going to call a place.”
The bags were digging into my hands. I shifted them. Was this a bad idea? Definitely a bad idea.
Okay, Callahan. Time for a save.
“I did. My kitchen.”
Her mouth twitched. She was fighting it. “Liam, you really didn’t need to go to all that trouble. My brother is perfectly fine with the girls having pizza from one of the many places this city is known for.”
I gave a small shrug, like it wasn’t a big deal, though my pulse was drumming harder than it should, given I was just standing still.
The bags were getting heavy.
“They’ll like this better,” I said. “Options. Toppings. Chaos while we roll out the dough. I figured it might buy you an hour of peace.”
It sounded smoother in my head.
