Chapter 6 #2
“How old is he?” I ask Nico as he hands the tennis ball off to Parker, and stands back to let dog and boy run outside. “Parker, mate, make sure you stay where we can see you, okay?”
There is no indication that he heard me. I look around the massive yard, noting the lack of a fence and feeling a tinge of nervousness. What if he ran off into the woods, or somehow circled to the front of the house without me seeing and got onto the road? God, what if they got hit by a car?
“We’ll sit outside,” Nico says, as though reading this from my expression. “The trees act as something of a natural barrier, and Drou will just follow Parker around. The nearest road is the one you drove in on, and it’s very private.”
“Okay, yeah, sorry. My mind is just an endless circle of bad shit that happens to children these days. He got a mozzie bite a couple weeks ago, and I spent an entire night researching the symptoms of malaria and dengue fever.” After a second, feeling like an idiot, I clarify, “Mosquito.”
Nico smiles but doesn’t laugh, putting a hand on my shoulder and squeezing gently.
“We’ll sit outside,” he repeats, and nods toward a patio table that looks like it could seat at least twenty people.
Parker’s laughter carries through the open doorway as I help Anthony and Nico bring the food outside. I offer to help with the grilling, and am promptly waved away with a pair of tongs.
“Go eat some chips and guacamole,” Anthony says. “I told you it’s homemade, right? ”
Nico is already seated at the table, chair angled to face the yard and long legs stretched out in front of him.
With his ankles crossed and hands resting on his stomach, it’s the most relaxed I’ve ever seen Nico Mackenzie.
I grab the seat across from him and turn to face the yard as well, wanting to keep Parker in my direct line of sight.
“Sorry, got distracted before—how old is Drou?” I ask as I do indeed reach for the guacamole. I can smell it already and my stomach rumbles in response.
“Just over six months. He lives with friends of ours right now, until he’s at an age where he can go to obedience training.” He turns his face toward me, smiling a small, sad smile. “He’s a little too excitable to have here right now—doesn’t know not to run under our feet. Well, my feet.”
He sighs and sends a regretful look at Anthony’s broad back, as though he feels badly about being the reason the puppy can’t stay here. I look across the lawn, watching Parker run in circles and giggle as Drou follows behind, trying to catch his heels.
“I’m assuming you have him tonight for Parker’s benefit?” I ask, crunching into a chip and groaning. Holy shit, he wasn’t kidding about the guac. Nico nods. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Troy and Sam were probably eager for a break anyway. They’re considering fostering children, so I suppose a puppy is good practice.”
I snort and shake my head as Parker flops onto the grass, shrieking in delight when Drou pounces on him. Even from here I can hear the way the puppy is growling.
“I really appreciate it,” I tell him, eyes on Parker’s happy, glowing face. “You’ve made his day. Week, probably.”
“You might not be thanking me come Christmas when he starts asking for a dog,” Nico says dryly and Anthony laughs as he walks behind me, skirting around the table to sit next to Nico.
“Food in about twenty minutes,” he says, collapsing back into his chair and touching his fingertips to Nico’s arm before reaching for the salsa.
“Thank you again,” I repeat, feeling like I’ve both said it too much and not nearly enough.
I hadn’t expected anything near this level of care to be put into dinner.
Nine-year-olds and tired uncles don’t exactly have refined palates—we would have been perfectly content with frozen chicken nuggets and chips.
Anthony waves his free hand, shooing away the thanks as he pops a chip into his mouth.
Parker runs onto the deck in a clatter of heavy footsteps, and the scrabble of paws as Drou underestimates the stairs and stumbles.
Panting, Parker comes to lean against me.
Drou, also panting, puts his paws on my legs and stretches his neck toward the table, nose twitching.
Gently, I push him down and rub the finer, soft hair on his head. I think of Jack again.
“Having fun?” I ask Parker, who reaches over to steal chips off my plate. Drou wanders over to Anthony, making his rounds and saying hello.
“Yeah. Can I have some of this?” he asks, pointing at the salsa.
“Of course.” I scoop some onto my plate, and dump some more chips on as well. He leans more heavily against me, and eats a couple chips. Drou wanders back over and makes another attempt at climbing onto the table.
“I like your dog, and your house,” Parker tells the others, thankfully swallowing his bite of chip and salsa before speaking .
“Thank you. I’m glad you’re here to tire him out,” Anthony replies, reclined back in his chair and smiling cheerfully at Parker. “Dinner will be ready soon. You a chicken or a steak guy?”
Parker thinks about it for a second, chewing through another scoop of salsa. I replenish my plate.
“Both?” he responds carefully, glancing at me. I open my mouth to tell him he can have some of mine, but Nico beats me to it.
“You can have as much as you want,” Nico agrees and Parker smiles shyly at him, not quite as sure of Nico as he is with Anthony. I nudge him.
“Thanks,” he replies obediently, before turning to me. “Can Drou and I go play more?”
“Off you go.”
“Drou,” he calls. “Come on, Drou!”
He takes a running leap off the porch, looking behind just long enough to ensure the puppy is indeed following. I grimace at the ungainly way Drou clatters down the stairs before tearing across the grass in pursuit of Parker. Anthony laughs, rising to check the grill.
“He seems like a good kid,” he tells me as he passes and I smile proudly, even though I’ve had nothing at all to do with making him so.
“Yeah, his parents did a good job.”
“And you,” Nico adds. I shake my head.
“Video chatting was hard to set up sometimes with the time difference. Vic was so busy between working and being a mum…we’d always make plans to talk every week and then somehow go months without making it happen. I was barely around when he was growing up.”
“He’s still growing up, and you’re here now. When it matters,” Nico adds gently. I smile at him, and take a too-big bite of guacamole. Way to ruin the mood, Desy , Vic says, laughing in my ear.
“I feel like we owe him babysitting money,” Anthony muses, walking over to grab another chip and watching as Parker tosses the ball for Drou. For his part, Drou hasn’t yet worked out that he’s supposed to bring the ball back. Fetch appears to mainly be a game of tag.
“I was thinking I owed you,” I admit, making him laugh.
“Speaking of babysitting,” Anthony starts, pulling out the chair next to mine and straddling it, forearms resting on the back. “I know you and I only just met, but if you ever do need a babysitter, I’d be happy to help.”
Nico looks at his partner and smiles so tenderly I look away, feeling like I shouldn’t have seen such a loving expression on his face. It wasn’t meant for me.
“That’s a huge ask, I couldn’t?—”
“You didn’t ask,” Anthony points out, and shrugs. “I love kids, and I doubt you’re going to have an easy time finding care for him with SCU’s game schedule. If you’re comfortable with it, I can help any time.”
“Parker tells me he’s old enough to stay home alone,” I tell him dryly, which has him tipping his head back and laughing.
“Something to think about, that’s all.” He pats my shoulder on his way back to the grill, Nico watching him go, still with that fond expression on his face. “Anybody hungry?”
“I am!” Parker shouts back, accompanied by barks from Drou as they run toward us. Nico stands and grabs the leash from where Parker discarded it onto the deck. Parker watches in dismay as the puppy, panting and wagging his tail, is clipped back onto the lead. “Does he have to go?”
“I’ll feed him inside and bring him back out when you’re done eating. How’s that?” Nico offers.
“Okay,” Parker agrees, throwing himself into the chair next to me and probably gearing up to swallow his food as fast as humanly possible.
“Having fun?” I ask him as Anthony starts carrying over what was on the grill, tray steaming in his hands and bringing with it the scent of roasted veggies. My stomach rumbles in response, apparently not full enough of appetizers to not want more.
“Yeah. We should come here every week,” Parker suggests, face flushed and hairline sweaty. His shirt, which had been white before we got here, is somewhat artfully grass stained and there is an unmistakable muddy pawprint on the thigh of his jeans.
“Well, probably not every week.”
I grab some of the roasted veggies, filling up half of Parker’s plate with the peppers, tomatoes, and onions. When Anthony comes back over with the meat, he holds it at eye level as though he’s a server in a restaurant.
“What’ll it be?” he asks Parker, who squints at the offerings like he’s making an important decision.
“Chicken,” he says decisively, pointing to a breast in the middle of the pan that looks exactly the same as the others. Anthony dutifully places it on his plate, and then does the same thing to me, before sitting down and filling up the plate in front of Nico’s seat.
When Nico rejoins us, he brushes his hand down the back of Anthony’s hair in thanks and takes a seat.
Parker’s eyes bounce between them as he chews on a pepper.
Unsure whether he’ll eat it or not, but willing to finish his if he doesn’t, I plop a dollop of potato salad on his plate as well.
I’m feeling really good about the nutritional value of this meal.
“Are you married?” Parker asks.
“No,” Nico says at the same time Anthony replies, “Not yet.”
“Grandma doesn’t like that Uncle Desmond likes boys. She says it’s unnatural.”
Oh good, so we’ve come to the unfiltered part of the evening. “Parks, let’s not talk about Grandma?—”
“Mom said that’s bullshit though and people should get to love anyone they want unless it’s a goat,” he finishes. Anthony hacks out a laugh around his bite of steak, turning his head to the side and covering his mouth to cough.
“Parker! No swearing, come on, mate, you know you’re not supposed to say that.
And don’t talk about…loving goats at the table.
Or at all,” I add. I’m pretty sure what he actually overheard was my sister making an inappropriate joke about fucking goats, but that’s a conversation I’m saving for when he’s older.
He opens his mouth, likely to air more family dirt about things my mother has apparently said in his vicinity, but Nico carefully moves the conversation away.
“What do you like to do for fun?” he asks, which prompts a hard-to-follow and painfully dull story about Minecraft that Anthony and Nico nonetheless listen to with rapt attention.
Parker does end up eating both a chicken breast and a steak, as well as two helpings of roasted veggies and the potato salad.
He informs us it’s not his favorite, but somehow manages to eat it anyway.
When pie is mentioned, he lets Nico know that yes, his dessert side is still empty and he would like some pie. He eats two slices.
“Can I play with Drou again?” he asks. We stare at him in amusement, unable to fathom running around without puking after the amount of food he just ate. Parker, misreading the silence, glances at me. “After I wash my plate?”
“You can leave your plate there,” Nico says, rising fluidly and stepping behind Anthony. “Why don’t you and I go get Drou.”
They head inside, Parker practically pressed against the back of Nico as he follows him too closely.
“You’ve got an awesome kid,” Anthony says, bringing my eyes back to his. I nod.
“He is. Even when he’s having a hard day or being a shithead, he’s still not as bad as some stories I’ve heard. I read parenting blogs and the comments sections are a horror show.”
He laughs. “I can only imagine what my own parents’ contributions might have been to a blog like that.”
“Drou! Come on, Drou!” Parker yells from inside the house, apparently of the impression that the dog is partially deaf. A minute later boy and puppy come running out the door, bellies full and on their way for another romp in the grass.
Fuck me, I’m going to have to get this kid a dog.
“Hey, is he named after?—”
“—the NHL player?” Anthony fills in, grinning. “Somewhat. We had the bright idea of letting Nico’s hockey kids name him, so his official name is: Drou Sidney Liam Scott Lehki Makar Morgan the Third. We just call him Drou. ”
Laughing, I look out over the open expanse of green yard, listening to the faint sounds of Parker explaining fetch to Drou, accompanied by the chirp of crickets.
As Nico returns to the patio, he turns on lights that are strung along the pergola.
Maybe Parker is onto something, and we do need to come back here for dinner every week.