Page 12 of DadBod

“Rome isn’t at the restaurant?” Dumb question, I know.

“No. He’s in California. Gianna said he knows a guy with a private jet. He was able to fly out at three in the morning.”

Rome must be extremely worried about his kids. I can’t even imagine. Even though his kids are far away, he FaceTalks with them almost daily. I’ve seen him do it at the restaurant. He brags about them constantly too. It’s mostly to me, Jeriann and sometimes Jackie. It’s obvious he thinks his children are the best thing since sliced bread. Yep. He’s a good dad. At least that’s my impression.

“What’s going to happen? Will the kids come here? Will Rome move out there?”

He wouldn’t move out there, would he?

The sense of panic I feel is getting more intense. It’s a bit overwhelming.

“No idea.” I hear voices that sound like they’re near Jeri. “I gotta go. New table. I’ll call you later or stop by after my shift.” They close earlier on Sunday nights, which means she’d get home around midnight after she does her closing work.

“Okay. Don’t forget.”

“Are you kidding me? I won’t forget. I know how you feel about the man. You lerrrrvvveee him.”

Ignoring her comment, I click off and plop down on the chair. I call it “the” chair because I’ve only got one.

“Poor Rome.” I sigh. “Poor kids.” I know what it’s like to lose your mom at a young age. I was about Ryann’s age when I, we, lost mine to cancer. Granted, our mom’s death wasn’t sudden like this, but losing your mother in any way is horrible and tragic.

“Poor Tina.” Even though I didn’t care for her, I wouldn’t wish this on her. I know she loved her children. Sure, she bitched at us and about the restaurant, but when the kids were with her, she always had an arm wrapped around one of them, kissing them on their little heads. She doted on them.

God. Those poor kids.