Page 35 of A Better Place

“Who? Huh? Not sure.” I keep my eyes focused on the woodpile. What is it about talking and thinking about Carly that makes me feel like a sixteen-year-old? Hell, not even a sixteen-year-old because Jack is more mature about all of this than I am!

“Dude.”

I hang my head with my hands on my hips. “I know.”

“Du-u-ude.”

“I said I know! I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me!” I yank the cap off the top of my head and hit my leg with it before placing it back on.

“You got it bad, huh?”

I nod my head. “I think I do. Which is frickin’ dumb. I’ve known her like… what… a day? But there’s just something about her. It’s more than her looks. I mean, don’t get me wrong. She’s beautiful. Beyond beautiful if I’m being honest, but it’s so much more than that with her.”

My mind drifts back to last night when I went for pizza with Carly and Jack. We spent three hours in that tiny Italian restaurant.

Now the place looks like it walked off a movie set, but when I found it almost two years ago, it was a disaster. The menu was decent enough but, much like Tony’s, the ambiance left a lot to be desired. He wanted something that screamed “my mob family owns this joint” and what it said back then was “the gang busted all up in here.” He wanted authentic, or at least what Americans view as authentic. So, he put a lot of thought and work into making it a cozy place.

And cozy it was. Last night, the red-and-white-checkered tablecloths covered all the tables, with single white votive candles in a glass jar flickering in the center. Italian instrumental music softly piped through the speakers while the waiters and waitresses bustled around the small establishment.

When we sat down, Carly seemed nervous, fidgety. She kept looking around the restaurant and pulling the sleeves down on her bright green top, even though it was long enough that her thumbs could fit through the little thumb holes. She thought she looked gross and sweaty, and said so a couple times, but I thought she looked beautiful, even though she was clearly uneasy.

When I lay in bed that night, I couldn’t stop thinking about our evening together. I could tell something major had happened in her life, something that changed her. Something that changed Jack, too. Boys are protective of their mothers, but Jack? It is more than that for him. He looks at her like he would do anything to shield her from hurt.

“Did you hear me?” The sound of Barrett’s voice jolts me out of my thoughts and into the present.

“What?”

“Man, you really do have it bad already. You totally zoned out just now.”

“Sorry.” I shake my head, though I’m not sorry at all. “What was it you were saying?”

He luckily lets it go and moves on. “I can’t really say that I know her that well. She’s Harper’s teacher, but it’s not like I go there and hang out. I know she and Christine are pretty close, though.”

“Yeah, I figured as such when I saw them sitting together at the game a few weeks ago.”

“Ohhhh, that’s what the look was for.”

“Look?”

“The look. Yeah. When you found out that Christine was going to be here for Thanksgiving. You were hoping to get the deets on Carly.”

“Do you hear yourself?”

“Well, yeah. The words come out of my mouth, and I sound different in my own head than out loud. But, of course I hear myself.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “That’s not… Never mind. But deets? Really?”

He shrugs his shoulders and grins, unashamed.

“Anyway, I think they’ve been good for each other, both being single moms to teenagers, you know?”

“I bet.”

“And I was thinking… since you didn’t bring it up at Thanksgiving, go to the coffee shop and talk to Christine about her?” he hedges.

“No way.”

“Why not?”

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