Page 15 of DadBod
“Thanks.” I smile. My closed-mouth one. “What can I get you for dinner? Would you like to hear the special?”
Bianca James chuckles. “No. I know it’s a baby animal. Rome already mentioned it. I won’t put you through that, dear.”
Phew. Thank goodness.
“No. I think I’ll have the giardiniera.” Bianca James adds, “I’d like the dressing on the side.”
“Mother—” I jump because I didn’t hear the man approach. “Don’t be difficult. It’s prepared ahead of time. You can’t order it without dressing.”
“Difficult?” she squeaks. “Fine. It’s inconvenient, but I suppose that’s the way the cookie crumbles.”
Rome sighs loudly enough for the room to hear. “Mother. When you told me you were coming, I asked chef to prepare your favorite.”
“Tuscan salmon?” Bianca says in a perky tone.
“Yes, Mother.”
“Will he use non-fat—”
“He’s well aware of all of your dietary restrictions, yes.”
Mrs. James is very health conscious. I guess it works, because she looks amazing even at her age. She’s always put together with jewelry and accessories that match her outfit. I admire people who can do that. “I don’t care for your tone, Romeo Edward James.”
“Uh-huh.” Rome mumbles as he turns to me, “Just tell chef to go ahead with the salmon dish rather than trying to add it to the POS.”
I nod as I turn to his daughter. “Ryann? What would you like to have?”
“Nothing.”
“Ryann. We’ve talked about this,” Mrs. James says in a hushed tone. “You have to eat.”
I glance at Rome. His hands are on his hips and he’s frowning, but he remains quiet.
“I’m not hungry,” Ryann snaps. “Why do I need to order something I’m not going to eat?”
“Ryann,” Rome snaps. “You’re eating.”
“No. I’m not, Dad.” The scowl she’s giving him rivals the ones he gives me. My goodness, she sure takes after him. Even though she looks more like her mom, her personality is all Rome. Calvin, meanwhile, is absolutely Rome’s mini-me. He’s got the same dark hair and eyes as Rome. The same nose and mouth. It’s uncanny.
Rome turns his body to face me. “Order her the vegetable lasagna.”
“I’m not eating, Dad.”
He’s facing Ryann before he glances back at me. “Order her the vegetable lasagna.”
“Sure thing.” I nod. Hoping we don’t have to go through that again, I turn and give Calvin a real smile. “You want your usual?” Whenever he’s been here, he orders the same thing, spaghetti and meatballs.
He shrugs. “I guess.”
Since he’s sitting closest to me, I get low, squatting beside his seat. “I know for a fact that there’s one”—I hold up one finger—“strawberry Italian ice left. When I heard you were coming, I hid it in the back of the freezer.” We don’t make our own ice, but we get it from this amazing Italian dessert company from New York.
“You do?” He sounds a bit more pleased.
“I do. But you need to eat a little something before dessert, yeah?”
“Yeah.” He nods. “I’ll have my usual.” He smiles. Not a big one, but enough of one that it pleases me to no end.
“Great.” I pat his shoulder, adding, “And if anyone takes that last ice, I’ll kick their butt.”