Page 45 of Dirty Puck

“You’re pulling it off like a damn pro.”

When Char sighed, my face heated as I glanced over at her, because I’d forgotten about her sitting with us. When Reece and I started to banter, it consumed me. It flowed so effortlessly. Meanwhile, she beamed from ear to ear, wearing what I recognized as a contented mom face. My embarrassment vanished, just that quickly.

And with our easy conversation to pass the time, it felt like a blink and the pizza guy appeared. Pie delivery transaction completed.

Whoever this Joe was, he made a magical pizza. I got offlucky when as long as he got his pepperoni and mushroom, Benny didn’t care where it came from.

After dinner, we all cleaned up and then my boy started yawning. I picked him up to carry him to the bedroom to get his jammies on. He wouldn’t feel ready to go to bed until Claudia was in the room with him. This gave Reece time to blow up the air mattress—and surprisingly, he put the clean sheets and bedding on for him, too.

Char started a pot of coffee for us. One thing I could say for her was the woman loved her coffee creamers. Snickers, Twix, and Sugar Cookie.

“A woman after my own heart,” I said, holding up the bottle of Twix creamer.

“Baker loves them too, especially the Snickers flavor. I don’t know if he’s been trying to impress you, but if he tries to drink his coffee black, call him on it.”

“So far, he’s had milk and sugar because I’m typically on a pretty tight budget, but I’ll make sure to have the Snickers now.”

“Tight budget?” she asked. “My son?—”

“Knows that I take care of my family, so while we were not as together as we are now, I paid for my own things. Now it’s changed a little because we’re exclusive and it makes him feel better to pay for things, but I still won’t let him pay for everything. I’m not built that way.”

“Trust me, he’ll wear you down. I wasn’t built like that, either. I’m his mother. I’m supposed to take care ofhim.”

“Quit telling tales in here,” Reece said, walking into the kitchen to retrieve the tray.

“They’re not tales if they’re true, my son.”

He kissed his mother on the side of her head then left the kitchen, walking to where Claudia waited for us in the den. We followed him out, and while he set the tray on the coffee table, I dropped down onto the sofa.

Rather than take a seat, Char made her way over to abookshelf, pulling what looked like a photo album from between a couple of other books.

“Ma, have a seat,” he ordered.

“Hush, Baker. I finally get to participate in the age-old, obligatoryembarrassing your childrite of passage by showing baby pictures to your girlfriend.”

He didn’t look impressed. “You can’t embarrass me,” he challenged. “It’s a lost cause.”

“We’ll see.” She smiled this devilishly evil smile. I liked her.

I poured myself a cup of coffee, adding a big glug of the Twix creamer, and as I took my first sip, Char laid a baby book on my lap.

While she fixed herself a cup and one for Claudia, who had Benny’s head resting on her lap as he slept, I opened the book to the first page, where Char had taped baby Reece’s footprints.

“That’s a heck of a newborn footprint,” I said. “How much did he weigh?”

She dropped onto the sofa next to me, pointing to the next page opposite the one with the footprints.

“Nine pounds?” I gasped.

“And just shy of two feet long.”

“You gave birth to a three-month-old.”

“Best day of my life, but yes, I was blessed with a very healthy boy. Powerful lungs. He ate like a set of triplets.”

“No wonder you stuck to one. I wouldn’t want to repeat that torture, either.”

Laughing, she asked, “How big was Benny?”

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