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“I mean, if you don’t have time, it’s fine,” she rushes in when I don’t say anything. “Ryle and I can pick something out. I just thought you and Ryle—”
“I’ll go!” I interrupt her. “I can go with you guys.”
Now she’s quiet, and I hold my breath, wondering if I was a little too enthusiastic with my answer.
“Okay.”
“I thought something was wrong,” I admit. I start my car and wait for the call to switch to hands free mode, and then I back out of my parking space slowly. “When I saw your name come up.”
“Oh.” She groans softly. “I’m sorry. I guess I don’t call you too often.”
She never calls me, but I don’t point that out to her.
“Let me run home and change clothes. Then I’ll come by and get you guys. Does that work?”
“Absolutely! Hey, Ryle’s eating his dinner. Do you want me to fix you a plate?”
“Sure. Thank you.”
“See you in a few.”
After I end the call, it still takes the rest of the drive for my heart rate to slow down to normal. Makes me wonder how bad Julie felt when I called her from the hospital. I tune into the drive, paying attention as I cross the city streets to my apartment. It’s an okay place, and normally, I like spending time here. But knowing Julie and Ryle are waiting for me at her place makes me rush inside and change my clothes as fast as possible without tripping out of my pants and ending up on the floor.
I wonder what Ryle will pick for a snack. I can think of a lot of things that sound good, but this is Ryle’s choice. I know he likes cookies, but will he choose those for a snack for his team? It hits me that it’s kind of sad that he’s my son, and I don’t know him well enough to know what his go-to junk food is.
Ryle’s sliding away from the table when Julie lets me in. He flashes me a grin and disappears down the hall. I assume he’s washing his hands and getting ready to leave. Julie wears a cute smile when she hands me a plate.
“Dinosaur chicken nuggets.” I laugh and nod. “Okay. Sounds good.”
“Ryle thought you would be really excited,” she agrees.
“And mac and cheese.” I scoop a bite of the noodles and look at Julie when I stick the fork in my mouth. “And I’m guessing the peas were your choice.”
“What is it with you and vegetables?” She rolls her eyes. “Are you this picky when you’re traveling? Do you ask the waiters at Michelin restaurants to hold the haricots verts?”
“Of course not,” I answer with a mouthful. “I like green beans.”
She shakes her head like she’s frustrated, but her smile is too sincere for me to believe it for a second.
I scarf the dinner down, secretly thrilled that she made me a plate, even if I am eating six-year-old fare. It’s good, too, because I skipped lunch. Too busy with rearranging my schedule to stop and eat.
Ryle appears in the kitchen as I stick the last bite of a chicken nugget in my mouth. He’s dressed for his ball game, complete with his glove. I carry my plate to the sink and rinse it, but Julie snatches it from me and washes it quickly.
“We ready?” she asks when she dries it and puts it away.
“Dad, I’m gonna hit a homerun tonight,” Ryle announces.
“Sounds awesome.”
“Let’s go, guys,” Julie says as she picks up her purse. “Gotta stop at the store so we can get your snack, Ryle.”
“Rocket pops!” he yells, fists in the air, as we head out the door. Julie and I exchange a smile as we follow him to my car.
“Not sure they’ll stay frozen, Ry,” Julie says quietly.
“We can get a Styrofoam cooler,” I tell her. “And ice.”
We stare at each other over the car. Ryle, who had started to climb in, leans out and grabs onto Julie’s forearm.
