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“Mom, we’re going,” I say, more determined now than ever, and she quirks a brow.
“You’re going to go?”
“Yep.” I nod and lift my mug from the counter to take a sip from my coffee. “I’ll be your moral support.”
“Wait, so you’re going, but you’re not getting in the pool with me?” she questions but doesn’t even give me time to answer. “You know what? I’ve decided. I’ll go, but only on one condition.”
“Okay…and what’s that?”
“Sal goes, too.”
I search her face for an explanation, but she gives nothing away. Only serious eyes and lips set in a firm line. “Wait…you’re serious? You’re only going if Sal goes? You do remember you’re going to see him later today for dinner at the clubhouse, right?”
These plans were put in motion yesterday when Sal and Stella were canoodling on the back porch. And apparently, it’s not only dinner, but it’s dinner that ends with a board game or some shit.
Talk about a big, exciting night out.
“I don’t care.” She nods and starts the process of carrying her tea into the living room. “Either Sal goes, or I don’t go. That’s the deal,” she calls over her shoulder. “Take it or leave it.”
I sigh. Why do I feel like the mother in this scenario? And the mother of a teenage daughter trying to get permission to go over to her boyfriend’s house, at that.
Instead of questioning the how or the what or the why, I pull my phone out of my pocket and find the most recent contact added to my list—Ryan Miller. God help me, I only hope I can handle the two of them.
Two nights ago, after we found our parents making out like fucking teenagers, we decided to form an alliance of sorts. One that revolves around us working as a team and keeping our wild and crazy parents out of trouble while they recover from their injuries.
Thankfully, yesterday was relatively calm and quiet. Besides taking Stella to a few doctor’s appointments and then keeping her and Sal stocked on lemonade while they spent the afternoon together on the back porch, I haven’t had to deal with any craziness. Didn’t even need to reach out to Ryan.
Actually, today marks the first time I’ll be utilizing his digits.
With my fingers to the screen and my lips quirking up at the corners, I start to type out a message.
Good God, why are you so fucking smiley right now?
I roll my eyes at myself. Obviously, I’m smiling because I’m excited to arrange something that involves me doing nothing but napping by the pool.
Uh-huh. Sure, sure, whatever you need to tell yourself, you liar.
Ignoring my dumb and pointless thoughts, I hit send on the text and wait for his response.
Me: Is Sal allowed to come out and play at the pool with Stella today? I’ll even pick him up in my mom’s golf cart on the way there.
Thankfully, he is incredibly prompt.
Ryan: This question should be the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard, but alas, it’s like a gift from God. YES. TAKE HIM. GET HIM OUT OF HERE SO I CAN WORK.
I smirk at his candid response.
Me: So…the day is going that well, eh?
Ryan: Well, let’s see… While I was in the middle of a Zoom call with an important client, my dad chose that time to LOUDLY ask me to get ice for his balls.
I cringe for him.
Me: Oh man. That’s bad.
Ryan: But wait, Carly. There’s more… About twenty minutes later, on a DIFFERENT Zoom call, he decided it was the perfect time to walk behind me in such a way that everyone on the video call could see him. Mind you, he got REAL dressed up for that appearance. Just a simple pair of boxers and a bag of ice pressed to his groin. Business casual, if you will.
Me: I don’t know whether I should laugh (because I really want to laugh) or if I should cry for you…
Obviously, I laugh. I laugh my fucking ass off.
Ryan: So, yeah, as you can see, everything is going really great over here.
More laughs bubble up from my lungs as I type out another message.
Me: Well, I guess that settles it, then. I’ll take Sal off your hands for a trip to the pool. Can he be ready in about forty minutes or so?
Ryan: Forty minutes? That long? Carly, I can shove his ass out the door in two.
I snort and shake my head.
Me: Make it thirty minutes, and it’s a deal.
Ryan: Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I owe you big-time.
Me: I’m probably going to take you up on that offer…
Ryan: You should. I’m a man of my word, Carly. All promises kept. Always.
I have no idea why that last message is a turn-on, but it kind of, sort of is.
Okay, fine. It is, hands down, a turn-on. It’s like he’s so confident in himself, who he is as a person, and it’s not even about ego. He’s just…an awesome fucking guy.
