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Luckily for him, I was already covered in flour, or I’d be really annoyed.
“Hey! Have a little faith in me. I can do this.”
“You’re a goalkeeper,” I reminded him. “Aren’t you supposed to be good at this?”
“At what? Tossing pizza dough?”
“No, good with your hands.”
Um.
Did I say that out loud?
A slow grin broke out over Ollie’s face. He stared at me for a good fifteen seconds, just grinning, before he said, “I’m excellent with my hands.”
My cheeks burned. Why had I said that out loud? What was wrong with me? God, this was why I didn’t date.
I was so freaking awkward.
“Just toss your pizza,” I muttered, checking on Leo’s in the oven. It was almost done.
“Talk me through it again.”
I turned in just enough time to see Ollie drop his dough for the second time.
“Aw, shit.”
“Swear jar!” Leo hollered from the living room.
***
“That’s the best pizza I’ve ever had,” Ollie said, leaning back on the sofa and patting his stomach. “Wow.”
I laughed and reached for his plate.
“I’ll do the dishes,” he quickly said. “It’s the least I can do after you literally did my pizza for me.”
“Well, after your fourth attempt, I was worried you’d either ruin the dough or actually make it stick to my ceiling,” I admitted. “So I didn’t have a choice.”
“I wouldn’t have stuck it to the ceiling.”
“You had to climb on my table to get the flour off the light.”
Ollie scooted forward on the sofa and grabbed the plates. “You have high ceilings.”
“Excuses, excuses. If you’re going to wash up, I’m going to wrangle Leo into bed.” At least he’d already had his shower.
“Go ahead. Do you have a dishwasher?”
“That’s not washing up!” I laughed. “But yes, I do. I think it’s half-full with dirty stuff. I didn’t have enough to set it running this morning.”
“It’s fine. I can’t cook, but I can work a dishwasher.”
“If you break it, you replace it,” I teased him, passing through the kitchen to get to the stairs.
“Now you’ve jinxed me!”
Laughing, I went up to Leo’s room. He was already in his pajamas, sitting cross-legged on his bed, reading a book. “Whatcha reading?” I asked, leaning against the doorframe.
He held up a book with a monster on the front without taking his eyes off the pages.
I waited until he looked up. “Are you at the end of a chapter?”
He nodded and put a sock inside as a bookmark.
“A sock, Leo? Really?”
“I don’t want to lose my place.”
“That’s what bookmarks are for.” I sat on the edge of his bed. “Did you brush your teeth?”
“I did.”
“Show me.”
He bared his teeth at me. Sure enough, he’d brushed them, and judging by the lack of pizza sauce on his face, he’d even washed his face.
“Okay, good boy. Thank you. It’s time to go to sleep now.” I patted his pillow and got up so he could climb in.
He tucked himself under the covers and pulled the sheets up to his neck. “The pizza was yummy, Momma. Thank you.”
“You’re so welcome.” I kissed his forehead. “Did you talk to Dad tonight?”
“No. He sent me an email. He had to work.”
“Okay, I’ll text him and make sure he’s getting you from practice, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Goodnight, monster.” I kissed his forehead again. “Sleep tight.”
“Goodnight, Momma.” He snuggled in under the sheets, tucking his head right under like he always did.
I backed out of his room and shut off his light, leaving the dim night light on his nightstand to light that corner of the room.
I blew out a breath. Today had gone better than I’d expect, including with Ollie’s awkward pizza-base making. Leo had hung around after his pizza was done just to watch him fail every time, and I’d taken over because I really hadn’t wanted pizza dough on my ceiling.
I was also hungry and didn’t want to wait for him to eventually get the hang of it.
I could always teach him another time.
Or just laugh at him.
Laughing at him was the most likely option.
I slipped into the kitchen and watched as Ollie struggled with the buttons on the dishwasher. “I thought you could handle that.”
He narrowed his eyes. “There’s no power button.”
“You just close the door.”
“Just close the door? What kind of sadistic machine is this?” He pushed the door closed so it now blended in with the rest of the cabinets and stared at it.
Within five seconds, the machine came to life.
“That’s bollocks.”
I grinned. I liked that word. “Bollocks. That’s a fun word. Why do the Brits get all the fun cuss words and we get things like…”
He stared at me. “Things like…”
“I don’t know, I’m trying to think of the fun words!”
“You don’t have any.”
“That’s rude.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Thought of one yet?”
I opened my mouth to say I had, but I was all out. Nope. No fun swear words. “Well that sucks!”
Ollie laughed and leaned against the counter. “What can I say? We have all the good words. I’ll let you use ‘bollocks’ if you ask nicely.”
