Page 68 of Play Dirty

“I guess we missed a lot while we were gone,” he says.

I grin. “Eh, maybe a little.”

“I thought you were coming homeSaturday,” Stevie says pointedly.

“It’s winter in Australia and there was a storm coming,” Chey said, “so we opted to get out ahead of it. And here we are.”

“Surprise was on you, though!” Stevie says, laughing.

Chey wrinkles her nose. “Yeah, I didn’t need to see that.”

“Sorry not sorry,” Stevie quips.

The two of them giggle, and for the first time, it occurs to me that Brenna never had many close friends. And she really wasn’t friendly with any of the other wives and girlfriends on the team. In some ways, I’d always felt alienated because of it. We went to the occasional party or get-together, but for the most part, we stayed home with the kids and did our own thing.

I never realized how much I missed out on because of it. Seeing Stevie with Chey, and Chey with Ivan—it brings my worlds together in more ways than one.

“I need to check in with my mom,” I tell Stevie.

She nods. “Whatever you need to do. We can meet them at the house or we can go to dinner somewhere.”

“Taking three kids five and under out to dinner is a lot,” I say, chuckling.

She shrugs. “Whatever’s easier for your mom, I’m game.”

“Give me a minute.” I call my mom and she answers on the first ring.

“Okay, I’m tired,” she says, laughing. “I might be too old for three toddlers.”

I grimace. “I’m sorry—I’m on my way now. Do you have a plan for dinner or do you want to meet us somewhere?”

“I don’t care, as long as I don’t have to cook.”

“Then let’s do an early dinner. Do you remember where Casa del Papaya is? The kids like it there and there’s a little game room in the back for Martin and Emma to play in so we can enjoy our meal.”

“Yes, I remember.”

“See you there in about forty minutes? I’m on the other side of town and it’s almost rush hour.”

“No worries. Are you bringing Stevie?”

“I think so, yes.”

“I guess your conversation went well.”

I’d told my mother that I was planning to talk to Stevie—I hadn’t planned to attack her the moment I walked in the door, but that worked out pretty well.

“It did,” is all I say. She’ll ask for more details later.

“I’m really glad, son. I like her. And she seems to make you happy. That’s really all a mom can ask for.”

I smile and disconnect.

“Do you feel like Mexican?” I ask Stevie.

She nods. “I always feel like Mexican.”

“I’m going to meet Mom and the kids at a place we like called Casa del Papaya.”

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