22. Pizza
PIZZA
Oliver
Ivy
Good morning Mr. Capricorn! Outlook is solid today. You may want to reach out to a friend and brighten their day with the outlook you’re sporting. Share the wealth and all that.
Thank you my local horoscope reporter. I’ll try to remain optimistic.
Ivy
Anytime!
I reread the texts for the fifth time today. Rowan and I had just finished lunch, and I knew I’d see her later, but it hadn’t stopped me from reading them over and over like a middle school boy.
“You’re awfully quiet today,” Rowan muttered from beside me.
“I’m normally the quiet one.”
“Yeah, but you’re really quiet today. Pensive. Not like you don’t have anything to say, but like you have too much to say and don’t want to.”
I stared at him, unsure where to even begin with his observations.
“Yeah.” He smirked. “I’m onto something, aren’t I.”
“Nope,” I answered, even though it was clear it hadn’t been a real question.
He took a step closer and glanced down at my phone. The phone I hadn’t locked or put away yet.
“Should’ve known,” he said with a chuckle.
Once again, I said nothing as I locked it and slid it back into my pocket. My family had always been nosy as fuck, but falling in love had just made Rowan worse. It was if he couldn’t help himself now. Him and Payton could start a how-to guide on being involved in everyone else’s life.
“Don’t you have work to do?” I shot back.
“Nope. No one scheduled for today. Figured I’d just help you out with anything you need. So. What’s next?” He smiled a full grin as he leaned back in his chair, his arms folded behind his head as if he were stretching after a hard day’s work.
I mentally went down my to-do list for the day, only to realize I’d done it all. The weather was gorgeous. Horses and cattle were out, fed, stalls cleaned. No machines were broken. No fences needed mending. There wasn’t any more training for today.
Rowan checked his watch. “Wow. Look at that. Nothing?”
I shook my head, a brow arched in question.
“Good. That means you can go to practice with your boy and Ivy tonight. Enjoy! I’m going over to get some bagels for my girl. She deserves it. See ya later, bro.”
He got to his feet and walked over to where he’d parked his bike, the man eager to pull it out for the summer weather that was slowly creeping into Raven Creek.
Pulling back out my phone, I stared at the texts from Ivy, realizing Rowan was right.
Any plans tonight?
Ivy
Yes. Hang out with your son. Unless you don’t need me tonight?
Any other plans?
Ivy
Um… no? Read a book? Laundry.
Sounds lame. Come to practice with me. I’ll buy us dinner.
I watched as the message bubbles popped up and disappeared. Typing and then not typing. Over and over again, until the message finally came through.
Ivy
I’ll be there at 4:30 boss man.
I liked the message, a new smile on my face as I got up to take a shower before Hudson got home.
We were seated three rows back, watching Hudson skate.
They were running drills today, skating with a puck from one end of the rink to the other. The first two to finish were the next team captains. Apparently, that was very much desired, because these ten-year-olds were skating as if their lives depended on it.
I glanced down as her white-painted toes wiggled in her sandals. She was back in jean shorts and a hoodie today. A favorite springtime look, it seemed. Her Kindle sat in her lap, but she hadn’t turned it on yet, much to my shock.
“Okay, favorite food,” I asked, breaking the silence as Hudson hit his third of five laps.
She hummed. “Well, spicy everything. But pizza is on the top of the list. Buffalo chicken is the best. Bonus points if they do that garlic parmesan crust.”
“Sounds like a recipe for heartburn.”
She looked over at me, a smile across her face. “Maybe for an old man like you, Mr. Carragan. What about you? What do your superior taste buds enjoy? Steak and potatoes?”
I shook my head with a chuckle. “No. I’m not that much of a cowboy. Chocolate cake with a dark chocolate fudge icing is my favorite. Mom makes it every year for my birthday.”
“Oh, a sweets man? I didn’t see that one coming.” She turned back to the boys in time to see Hudson finish in second. “Let’s go, Sunny!!” Her voice echoed in the small arena, but he shot her a smile and held his stick in the air as he caught his breath.
“Okay, my turn,” she said, turning back to me. “I’m assuming this is another round of twenty questions. So my turn.”
“Twenty questions it is.” I waved a hand as if to hand her the floor.
“Favorite color today? Starting you off easy, since you said it changes by the day and all that.”
“Mmm, caught that one, huh?” She nodded in response. “Hm, well, today would be gray.”
“Lilac to gray? You’re an odd man, Oliver.”
I shrugged. “Never see me denying it. My turn. Favorite song right now?”
Her head dropped back as she stared at the ceiling, her eyes closed, and I knew she was thinking hard about this one.
“‘It Ain’t Right’ by Jessie Murph,” she finally said after another quiet moment.
“What makes it your favorite?”
Her head bopped from side to side before she smiled. “She has this stunning gravelly voice that you can just feel. I love a song I can scream in the car and feel every word with the artist. Whether we’re going through the same thing or not, it makes me feel something. Something real.”
Our eyes locked in that moment, and it took everything in me to look back out at my son. Something real.
“Your turn,” I said instead.
“Okay, favorite Star Wars character?” she shot back.
My gaze cut to her. “All the questions, and that’s what you want to know? That question is cruel when considering the insane number of layers within the Star Wars universe now.”
The smile grew on her face the longer I spoke, and she started giggling. “Okay, fine. Favorite character from the first six movies or whatever it is.”
“Oh, easy. Darth Maul.”
She stared for a moment, her mouth opening and then closing. “Isn’t he…a villain?”
I bit back the full-fledged smile that wanted to take place. “He is. I’ve always had a bad habit of rooting for the misunderstood villains, though.”
She nodded. “Honestly, I can’t judge. I love me a morally gray man at the end of the day.”
We went back and forth, question after question about the most random of things as they popped into our minds.
Hudson was a team captain, something he seemed to take very seriously if him speaking in low, hushed tones to his teammates was any indication. And by the end of practice, his team was up two points, and his confidence was through the roof.
On our way back, I pulled into the pizza place, hoping this would result in another smile.
“Pizza?” Hudson called from the back seat, already eager to throw the door open and devour a full pepperoni if I knew him at all.
“Pizza,” I responded.
The three of us walked in, sitting down in a booth. Me on one side, and Hudson and Ivy on the other. Normally I’d make a comment that I had to sit alone, tease my kid some, but I didn’t. Not when I was so grateful he loved her so much.
The waitress took our order, the three of us ordering personal pizzas and a large order of fries to split. Hudson stared at Ivy like she was crazy when she ordered a side of hot sauce and ranch for her pizza.
“Ranch?” he questioned.
“What? Don’t tell me you’re a blue-cheese boy. You know that stuff is basically moldy cheese, right?” she replied with a laugh, the noise making me want to hear it again and again on repeat.
Hudson’s eyes shot to mine, and I just shrugged.
“Are you messing with me?”
Ivy smiled. “Nope. Moldy cheese. I’ll stick to my ranch.”
His mouth closed, and he stared at nothing for a moment before finally speaking. “That’s gross, Ivy. Can’t trust anything but ketchup.”
We both started laughing at that, but the look on his face was still disgust.
“Moving on,” I began. “Tell us all about practice. What were the plays?”
At that he perked right up, eager to tell the both of us how as captain during the training camp he had the power to assign positions and together they came up with plays. The only downside was that the other team was run by his best friend, Colby.
Apparently, playing against his best friend wasn’t his favorite thing to do, but he ended practice grateful he won.