Page 75 of RomeAntically Challenged
Finally she finished, and all eyes were on Annie when Mai nodded and said, “Ah.” A single sound that ricocheted off the chip Annie now had on her shoulder.
Time to get back to making that dish-and-dash list so she could get the heck out of there.
* * *
Emmitt walked up the steps of the Tanner house. It wasn’t even six and the sun had taken shelter behind a cluster of clouds moving off the coast that had spread out to cover Rome and most of the neighboring towns. Summer had held on for longer than normal, so Emmitt had been surprised when the air became chilled, announcing that fall was about to make an appearance.
He looked up at the sky and squinted at the tiny molecules of rain flittering down. A drop landed on the tip of his nose and he smiled.
Tonight was his night. Steps one through three were coming together, and he was ready to implement step four.
In his line of work, being prepared could mean the difference between a couple of bruised ribs and coming home in a casket. If he’d thought there’d be any need for a helmet at that factory in China, he wouldn’t have been caught with his pants down. Even though he was covering the work conditions of the factory, and not investigating the fact that the builders used inferior supplies to cut their bottom line, he should have known better.
Should have trusted his gut.
Well, he was listening now. As soon as he got the sign-off from Gray, Emmitt was turning this story into a two-part series, which he knew would be some of his best work.
Kind of like the chocolate cream pie he had in his arsenal this evening. No way was he walking in blind again. He had gone to great lengths to ensure he came out of tonight’s family dinner with his World’s Best Dad title reinstated.
Bypassing the knocker—because this was, after all, Family Friday and he was as family as family could get—he let himself inside the house. He was greeted with a warm blast of air, which smelled awfully close to Michelle’s corn bread recipe, and a cacophony of laughter coming from the kitchen.
Frowning, he checked his watch. Ten to six. He held it to his ear to see if his grandfather’s 1936 Elgin had finally given out, but according to the steady ticking, he was ten minutes early. Strange, since it sounded as if the fun was well underway.
Slipping off his shoes and placing them in the rack—You’re welcome, Gray—Emmitt padded into the dining room where...what the actual fuck?Family Friday was in full swing.
Oh, they hadn’t served dinner yet, but the table had been turned into a game center. Plates and glasses were shoved to the side, the Pokémon version of Monopoly he’d given Paisley for Christmas was spread out over the table, and Gray was purchasing Park Place as if the entire “family” was all well and accounted for.
And the part that was like a flaming arrow to the heart was the startling sight of his dad sitting in Emmitt’s chair. Leslie Fucking Jacobs, the guy who hadn’t bothered to show up at Emmitt’s high school graduation, the guy he’d expressly forbidden to be a part of Paisley’s life, was sitting in as Emmitt’s replacement.
“Am I late?” he asked, because that possibility hurt a hell of a lot less than the idea that they’d started without him.
“Hey, Dad,” Paisley said, picking up the die and rolling. No hug, no squeal, just a distracted “Hey, Dad.”
Levi wasn’t any better. He looked up from the table and said, “Dude, is that your mom’s chocolate cream pie?”
Emmitt felt like holding it above his head the way he used to when he and Levi were kids and he didn’t want Levi to play with his favorite toy. “I brought it for P.”
“What’s in it?” she asked without even looking up.
“Chocolate, cream cheese, crumbled Oreos for the crust. It’s all homemade,” he said proudly, even though his mind was flashingWarning! Warning! Eject before it’s too late.
“Does it have sugar?” This from Paisley, who was staring at her phone, texting someone other than him.
“Well, yeah. It’s pie.” He chuckled. She texted. “But it’s gluten free. I got special Oreo cookies from the health food store in town.”
Her nose wrinkled as if he’d just said it was made from cooked cat shit and vomit. He didn’t know what had happened between the last time he’d seen her—when he was the “best ever”—and now. But Emmitt was feeling like the ball in a foosball table.
“God, you don’t know me at all,” she said. “My friends are right.”
He wasn’t sure what her friends had to do with his mom’s chocolate pie, but he was ready to call bullshit on the whole setup. Because that’s what this had felt like from the get-go, one big setup. Just because Emmitt was the last dad to the party didn’t mean he wasn’t her dad. Didn’t have Dad Rights.
Uncertainty crept in. Hell, it wrapped around Emmitt and started choking him. Not only was he unsure of what he’d done wrong, he hadn’t a clue how to fix it.
Needing a wingman, he looked at Levi and Gray, who were all shrugs and bafflement—and dressed like twins in matching jerseys, becausethat’snormal. They were basically as helpful as a Q-tip in a gunfight.
When it came to women, Emmitt knew, when in doubt always apologize. “I’m sorry, P. When Gray asked me to bring a dessert, I immediately thought of my mom’s chocolate pie.” He held it up again, hoping she’d take a second look and her eyes would light up with the warm memories he associated with this pie. No such luck. “This was your favorite dessert when you were little. You used to ask if we could have it for breakfast.”
“First off, in case you can’t tell, I’m not little. Second, I’m on a strict no-sugar diet.”
