“Not yet.”
“Jessa ran into town to grab some pizzas. I’ll shoot her a quick text and tell her to get a few more. What toppings do the kids like?”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“It’s no big deal. They’re the hot-n-ready ones, so she won’t have to wait for them to be made.”
“Pepperoni,” Jack shouts from the living room.
Emma follows us into the kitchen and pulls at Nick’s shirt. “I wike cheese.”
“Then cheese it is,” he says, booping her nose before sending a text to Jessa.
“Thank you. I appreciate it.” I sit down at the kitchen table and prop Henry on my knee. He’s the most content baby in the world, happy to sit and stare at his surroundings while blowing spit bubbles and babbling.
“There. Two more pizzas ordered.” Nick puts his phone in his pocket and crawls his fingers like a spider across the table toward Henry.
Henry giggles and slaps at his hand. Nick does it again before getting up and grabbing us two beers. He pops the top
, slides one to me, and plops into a chair.
I take a pull of my beer and move Henry to the other knee so I can see Nick better. “How’s the construction business going?” I ask, hungry for adult conversation.
“I definitely can’t complain. Business is booming right now, and I don’t want to turn anyone away. I’m thinking about hiring a few extra hands.”
“That’s awesome. I’m happy for you. You do great work.”
“Thanks. How’s the car-restoration business?” he asks.
“Good. I just got in a sweet muscle car from some rich dude in Florida. I’ll have it for at least two or three months, and then it’s on to the next project.”
“How many restorations do you have scheduled after this one?”
“Hundreds more. I have a wait list a mile long.”
My dad and I restored our first car when I was ten. It was a ’67 Ford and the start of a hobby that transformed into my full-time job. Word of my meticulous work got out, and the customers started rolling in. It pays well, I get to make my own hours, and I was able to set up shop in the old machine shed beside my house, which is nice because I’m close by if Angela ever has any problems with the kids.
“Do you ever slow down?” Nick asks.
“What the hell will I do if I slow down?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Nick says, taking a drink of his beer. “Live life.”
“I am living life.” One mess, argument, and Mickey Mouse song at a time.
“Do you know what you need?”
I tip my beer in his direction. “Something stronger than this?”
“A date.”
“That’s the last thing I need.” Being a single dad and running my own business is exhausting as fuck. Not to mention stressful.
“Jessa has a friend from work—”
“Stop right there. I’m not interested.”
“She’s cute.”