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Is this guy serious? Did he just ask my wife out on a date in front of me?
Madison must sense my anger starting to build because she pauses and looks over to me with sympathetic eyes. “Every Saturday after the game Kip and his son, Aldon… we all go out for lunch so the boys can play. It’s kind of a tradition.” And then she adds, after seeing the look on my face, “It’s not just us. Sometimes other people go.”
Uh huh. Do you believe her? I certainly don’t.
Tradition? She has a tradition with another man? That feels like cheating. It screams cheating. It’s not like I have a tradition with Kennedy to take her to lunch every Tuesday. I buy her lunch like once a month—Like as I buy it and she eats at her desk, and I eat in my office. We don’t converse over a meal. We don’t have actual fucking dates. Tradition means it’s happened more than once and more than once isway too many.
Tradition huh?
Well, I hope you don’t mind my joining in on your littletradition.
Kip glances my way, and I take this moment to really look at the guy. “It’s no problem. You’re welcome to join us.”
I’m welcome? Did you hear that? I should feel all warm and fuzzy inside because Kitty invited me to pizza. What a fuck face. Why is it I get the feeling this jerk is trying to make me feel like the third wheel with my own family?
Callan taps me on the arm. “You’re coming to pizza, right, Dad?” And then he notices my hand. “Why were you late? I was afraid you weren’t coming to the game.”
I look down into my son’s eyes and see excitement, but also caution there. He really thought there was a chance I wouldn’t show up at his game. Even after I told him I would and I’m not sure what makes me feel worse, the fact that some asshole is hitting on my wife right in front of me, or that my kid actually has reason to doubt my word.
I kneel. “Sorry I was late. I had a bit of an accident.” I hold up my bandaged hand.
His eyes grow wide, and I can tell he’s worried about what happened. “Are you okay? What happened? Maybe we should skip pizza?” His eyes dart from me to Madison, and then back and the expression on his face morphs from concern to what almost looks like hope. I’m getting the impression that Callen isn’t as excited about the Saturday lunch tradition as Kipper is.
Noah takes that moment to jump on my back, his arms tight around my neck. “Daddy owie.”
My proud stare moves to Kip.That’s right, my boys love me.
Trying to loosen Noah’s grip on my neck, I smile at Callan. “Don’t worry, I’m okay. Just had to go to the ER and get some stitches. I’ll be as good as new in no time.” Standing, I keep Noah on my back and hold onto his legs. “We can go to pizza if you want.”
“Um.” Callan shrugs, making a face I know. It’s pretty similar to the one he wears when he’s playing soccer, but I can’t tell what it is. Is he upset? “Okay. As long as you’re sure because if you’re in pain or anything, we can totally go home now.”
Yup. There it is. My son wants nothing to do with this lunch, but unfortunately for him, his selfish father needs to ride this one out.
“Yeah, I’m sure. We’ll just grab something quick and head home, sound good?”
“Sure.” Callan looks behind him at who I can only guess is Kip’s kid. I say this because he’s got the same blond hair and same stupid look on his face as his father. I feel bad saying that about a child but hey, his dad is a prick. I’m sure the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. The only difference is that this kid is looking at my kid like he’s some bug he wants to stomp on with his shoe.
“You guys ready to head out?” I turn back to Madison and plaster a big smile wrapping one arm around her but keeping Noah on my back, just to remind Knight Rider who Madison’s husband is. “Why don’t you lead the way, Kit?”
He shakes his head and leans down to pick up his bag and clipboard. “Kip. My name is Kip.”
I grin. “Yeah, I know.”
Madison shakes her head. “Cute, Ridley. Real cute.”
I kiss her check only to have her smile. “I can’t help it if he needs to know you still belong to me.”
She takes Callan by the hand and whispers, “Why don’t you just piss on my leg while you’re at it to mark your territory.”
“We’ll save that for later.” I wink. “Wouldn’t want to offend him with the size of my—”
She immediately let’s go of Callan’s hand and slaps her hand across my mouth. “Don’t you dare say that in front of him.” She gives a nod to Noah. “Last time you said asshole in front of him, he went around saying it for two weeks toeveryonewe saw. Including my mother.”
“Yeah, well, there’s certainly some truth there.” I laugh.
Do you see I’m the only one laughing at that remark? Even Callan’s staring at me with a confused expression.
I almost forgot about Noah saying asshole for two weeks. It was as if he was that cat from Talking Tom and only knew one word. We’d ask him what he wanted for breakfast in the morning, and he’d scream, “Asshole,” like he was so proud of himself.