Page 20 of DadBod
His comment shocks the crap out of me. So much, I have to cover my mouth for fear a snicker will escape.
But it’s interesting; the woman nods. “I am having a bad night.”
“What’s the matter?” he asks, like he sincerely wants to know.
“My daughter was supposed to meet me here for dinner, but she canceled at the very last minute.”
“That’s too bad.” I can see the little wheels turning in his head. “Do you want me to sit with you while you eat?”
The strangest thing happens. The woman blinks, her face gets a little red, and a shiny tear emerges. “I’d love that.”
“Cool.” Calvin slides into the seat across from the woman and adds, “You should get the spaghetti and meatballs. It’s my favorite.”
“Not the special?”
Thankfully, tonight’s special has no baby meat in it. Actually, there’s no meat in it at all. Cheese and spinach ravioli.
Calvin shrugs. “I’m sure it’s good, but you can’t go wrong with the spaghetti and meatballs.”
“Very well.” She looks up at me. “I’ll have what he’s having.”
“You want to eat, Calvin?”
He shrugs again. “I could eat.”
Jotting down the two orders, I move the POS machine that’s a few feet from their table. I’ve got the perfect view of his little face. I can hear him too. Like just now, when Calvin says, “My mom died three weeks ago.”
I stop typing into the machine and lean in to listen. I’m not sure why. I guess I want to hear what she says. “Oh, my dear, sweetheart. I’m very sorry.”
“Me too.” He pauses. “My dad owns this place.”
“He does?”
“Yeah. He’s a chef. Not the chef. That’s Antony. My dad’s the one that made all the recipes though. He used to cook, but he likes being out here more.” He uses his thumb to gesture to the bar area. “That’s him. The big guy with the frown on his face.”
I knew that about Rome. He went to culinary school in both New York and Italy. When he returned, he worked a bunch of different places until he was ready to open up this place.
I’d like to see him cook, to be honest. There’s something extra sexy about a guy who can make food. Not that Rome needs anything to make him extra sexy. He’s already got that. It’s just––all the guys I knew growing up could barely make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Even though I was the youngest kid with three older brothers, they couldn’t manage to cook anything. Instead, I was in charge of making their lunches starting in about third grade.
That wasn’t their only issue. They couldn’t keep their rooms clean. My dad put me in charge of that too. Yeah, I know how sexist that sounds. But it is what it is. Or was what it was. Funny. I kind of miss it. Living alone sucks, even with Jeriann next door. But I’m not going back to that little town––too many bad memories. I should visit, though. I need to see my brothers, my dad.
Shaking off those memories, I listen a bit more to Calvin. I want to giggle at his description of his father, but I feel sort of creepy. I shouldn’t be listening to their conversation. It feels wrong.
“This is my first visit. I can’t wait to taste his recipe for spaghetti and meatballs.”
“You won’t be disappointed.”
She laughs softly. “He’s a lucky man to have you as his son. You’re quite a nice young man.”
“Well. I’m not perfect. I can be annoying. Especially to my sister.”
“Are you younger or older than your sister?”
“I’m younger. She’s fourteen.” Calvin sighs. “She’s not taking my mom dying very well. She’s doing all sorts of things she shouldn’t.” I watch as he leans forward. In a low voice, he adds, “Don’t tell anyone, but she snuck out of the house last night. Late.”
“Shit.” That’s me, not the woman.
“Oh dear,” the woman says.