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“Why did they put you up to calling me? What do you want?” I couldn’t tell on a scale of one to ten just how put out she was with us. I guessed about a twelve.
“We’re hungry.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“Pizza?” I asked hopefully.
“See you soon,” she grumbled before she hung up on me.
I beamed. My sister would do anything for me. “Pizza’s coming,” I said with glee.
Holt threw up a fist with a shout while Patrick and Dad high-fived. My excitement faltered when Trish popped into my mind. I glanced at my watch. Almost six. She’d be closing up shop soon.
I started to veer off on Park, but my dad caught me by the elbow. “No way, son.” I resisted. “You’ll make an ass out of yourself.”
I deflated. He was right, but my drunken mind wanted to see her even though a part of me swore I hated her. Suddenly, I didn’t want to go home. Her presence would still linger. I’d have to suck it up and get used to it.
“I expect a very big tip.”Marlow dropped four large pizza boxes on the coffee table with a dramatic huff.
“Where’s my nephew?” Holt looked beyond her like the kid might be tottering behind. Forget he couldn’t walk yet.
“With a sitter.” Her phone trilled some Brittany Spears song, and she blushed. She stalked toward the kitchen to take the call.
“I think I just fell in love with your sister,” Patrick said.
“Because she likes Brittany Spears?” I asked, making a face.
“Ugh. No. She brought my favorite pizza.” He’d already opened a box and had it perched on his lap as a giant plate.
“You’ve never met a pizza you didn’t like,” I said.
He shrugged and tore off a piece with his teeth.
By the time Marlow came back into the living room, we’d all had at least two pieces.
“Thanks for waiting for me.” She grabbed a slice out of Patrick’s box as she walked by.
“Hey. I was going to eat that.”
“Too bad.” She sank into the empty chair next to him and snatched the box off his lap. “Your nephew is on his way over.”
Patrick stared down at the space where the pizza had been as if he couldn’t determine what had happened.
“When did he get old enough to come to the city by himself?” I asked as Patrick tried to figure out what to do next. Taking that box back from my sister was the worst idea possible.
He did it anyway.
“That’s mine.” Marlow dove for the box, and Patrick played keep away.
“Ask nicely, and I’ll let you have another piece,” he said sweetly.
She muttered something unintelligible under her breath. “So why have you been drinking all day? Is this about Trish?”
“How do you know that?” I asked, unable to keep the accusation out of my tone.
“Because I saw her today, and she looked like shit.”
I started to tell my sister not to talk about her that way but clamped my mouth closed.
