dog, playing with her ears.
Butter opened an eye, bored, but lifted her head to lick him.
They’d made the right decision about her surgery, even if it had cost their savings. And the trip to Europe. And perhaps even a smidge of warmth between her and John. Although maybe he’d finally forgiven her.
At least a little.
He’d seemed less annoyed with her, perhaps, in the two weeks since they’d attended Romeo’s game. Maybe it had everything to do with Romeo and the fact that he loved football as much as John did.
Or maybe John simply realized how well Romeo fit into their family. Easily, as if he’d always belonged here. Like when he’d helped Ingrid take Butter to the vet for a checkup, carrying the dog to the car without being asked and then soothing her on the table.
And Ingrid couldn’t deny the turn of her motherlyheart watching him play with a litter of puppies tumbling over one another in a gated area of the foyer. He’d made friends with the runt and returned home with puppy kisses on his chin.
Yeah, Romeo fit, and today, right now, she intended to soak in the joy of having her family around the table for Sunday dinner, without a football game to interfere.
Until the 7 p.m. Vikings kickoff against the Lions.
“What did you bring?” she asked Ivy as she unwrapped the towel.
“Apple crisp,” Ivy said, pulling out plates. “The lasagna smells amazing.”
“Hey, Dad,” Darek said, settling down on the sofa and grabbing the sports section.
John leaned back in his recliner, paging through the editorials. “Son.”
Romeo came down the stairs, having changed after church into a pair of sweatpants and a Huskies sweatshirt Ingrid had purchased from the booster club. He’d given her not even a mumble of complaint when she woke him for church that first Sunday or in the weeks since. But although he sat quietly in the pew as if listening, she noticed he didn’t sing along, didn’t crack the pew Bible.
At least he attended.
He came over, took the plates from Ivy. Brought them to the table.
Ivy glanced at Ingrid, wearing an expression of approval. But that was Romeo —a charmer to the bone. Ingrid had figured that out about two days into his stay, and he hadn’t broken her heart yet.
He returned for glasses while Ivy tossed the salad. Ingrid pulled the lasagna from the oven, then the garlic bread wrapped in foil.
“Smells good, Mom.” Darek got up, taking the casserole pan to the table. “I can’t remember the last time we had lasagna.”
“It’s Romeo’s favorite.”
Romeo glanced at her, wearing a hint of a smile. “How did you —?”
“You told me about that time you visited Grandma and Grandpa Young on your birthday and they served you lasagna. This is my mother’s recipe.”
He gave her a full grin now, and she could feast on it.
She put the garlic bread on the table and surveyed it. “Water —”
“I’m on it,” Romeo said, grabbing a pitcher from the cupboard.
John came to the table. “Tiger, it’s time to eat. Go wash your hands.”
Tiger gave Butter a kiss on her head, then ran to the bathroom, emerging a moment later with the front of his shirt sopping wet.
Ingrid hid a smile as Ivy dried him off, then scooted him onto his chair. Romeo sat next to him. “Hey, kid.”
He held up his fist, and Tiger bumped it, saying, “Pow!” Apparently they’d developed a ritual.
John watched, wearing a frown.
Ingrid held out her hands. “Let’s pray.”
And for a moment, as John’s voice rose, all felt right. As it should be. Her family around her, safe. Whole.
“Amen,” John said.
Indeed.
They dug into the meal and Ingrid dished up extra for Romeo. He grinned at her.
“So you started in Friday’s away game, huh?” Darek passed him the salad.
“Yeah. Rigley is out, so they put me in.”
“What was it that they were calling you before the game?”
Romeo made a face. “Chunks.”
Ingrid raised an eyebrow.
“Because I sorta lose it before
Butter opened an eye, bored, but lifted her head to lick him.
They’d made the right decision about her surgery, even if it had cost their savings. And the trip to Europe. And perhaps even a smidge of warmth between her and John. Although maybe he’d finally forgiven her.
At least a little.
He’d seemed less annoyed with her, perhaps, in the two weeks since they’d attended Romeo’s game. Maybe it had everything to do with Romeo and the fact that he loved football as much as John did.
Or maybe John simply realized how well Romeo fit into their family. Easily, as if he’d always belonged here. Like when he’d helped Ingrid take Butter to the vet for a checkup, carrying the dog to the car without being asked and then soothing her on the table.
And Ingrid couldn’t deny the turn of her motherlyheart watching him play with a litter of puppies tumbling over one another in a gated area of the foyer. He’d made friends with the runt and returned home with puppy kisses on his chin.
Yeah, Romeo fit, and today, right now, she intended to soak in the joy of having her family around the table for Sunday dinner, without a football game to interfere.
Until the 7 p.m. Vikings kickoff against the Lions.
“What did you bring?” she asked Ivy as she unwrapped the towel.
“Apple crisp,” Ivy said, pulling out plates. “The lasagna smells amazing.”
“Hey, Dad,” Darek said, settling down on the sofa and grabbing the sports section.
John leaned back in his recliner, paging through the editorials. “Son.”
Romeo came down the stairs, having changed after church into a pair of sweatpants and a Huskies sweatshirt Ingrid had purchased from the booster club. He’d given her not even a mumble of complaint when she woke him for church that first Sunday or in the weeks since. But although he sat quietly in the pew as if listening, she noticed he didn’t sing along, didn’t crack the pew Bible.
At least he attended.
He came over, took the plates from Ivy. Brought them to the table.
Ivy glanced at Ingrid, wearing an expression of approval. But that was Romeo —a charmer to the bone. Ingrid had figured that out about two days into his stay, and he hadn’t broken her heart yet.
He returned for glasses while Ivy tossed the salad. Ingrid pulled the lasagna from the oven, then the garlic bread wrapped in foil.
“Smells good, Mom.” Darek got up, taking the casserole pan to the table. “I can’t remember the last time we had lasagna.”
“It’s Romeo’s favorite.”
Romeo glanced at her, wearing a hint of a smile. “How did you —?”
“You told me about that time you visited Grandma and Grandpa Young on your birthday and they served you lasagna. This is my mother’s recipe.”
He gave her a full grin now, and she could feast on it.
She put the garlic bread on the table and surveyed it. “Water —”
“I’m on it,” Romeo said, grabbing a pitcher from the cupboard.
John came to the table. “Tiger, it’s time to eat. Go wash your hands.”
Tiger gave Butter a kiss on her head, then ran to the bathroom, emerging a moment later with the front of his shirt sopping wet.
Ingrid hid a smile as Ivy dried him off, then scooted him onto his chair. Romeo sat next to him. “Hey, kid.”
He held up his fist, and Tiger bumped it, saying, “Pow!” Apparently they’d developed a ritual.
John watched, wearing a frown.
Ingrid held out her hands. “Let’s pray.”
And for a moment, as John’s voice rose, all felt right. As it should be. Her family around her, safe. Whole.
“Amen,” John said.
Indeed.
They dug into the meal and Ingrid dished up extra for Romeo. He grinned at her.
“So you started in Friday’s away game, huh?” Darek passed him the salad.
“Yeah. Rigley is out, so they put me in.”
“What was it that they were calling you before the game?”
Romeo made a face. “Chunks.”
Ingrid raised an eyebrow.
“Because I sorta lose it before
Similar Books
