Kowalski. On himself, not her.
She’d broken his heart. She was using him to get ahead at work. She lived as far away as possible without leaving the contiguous states.
She laughed at something one of the boys said.
Hot. Alone. Cabin.
The pizza place wasn’t packed, so they were able to shove two tables together and seat all six. Then the fun began.
One boy refused to eat pizza without pepperoni, and one refused to eat it. One wanted mushrooms, another gagged. No anchovies, two for sausage, one for hamburger, and a unanimous no to black olives. Joe let them carry on for a few minutes and then ordered a large pepperoni, a large cheese and a large half-mushroom, half-sausage.
When Keri put her order in for a salad, five pairs of Kowalski eyes stared at her in disbelief.
“Salad?” they echoed as one.
“Vegetables are good for you.”
Joe just shook his head and turned back to the counter. “We’ll also have a small Hawaiian pizza with half the sauce and twice the pineapple.”
Keri’s mouth started watering and her tear ducts nearly followed suit. Did the fact a man she hadn’t seen in nearly twenty years knew her better than anyone else speak to her being a social hermit or had he really loved her that much?
Tilting pinball machines kept the boys’ squabbling to a minimum and Joe went through enough quarters to buy a decent used car before their number was finally called. Between the two of them, they managed to get the boys seated and began dispensing slices.
“Mine’s supposed to have pepperoni.”
“Ew, a mushroom touched mine!”
“You’re supposed to blow on it, not spit.”
“Danny’s has more cheese than mine.”
“Look at this.”
“Oh, dude, that’s so gross!”
As Keri finally bit into her first slice, she wondered how Lisa managed to get through each day with her sobriety intact. Even having just two of the boys would have driven Keri to drink. A lot . And their Uncle Joe wasn’t helping, with the hyperactivity of either the boys or her hormones.
The way he kept looking at her, his eyes filled with humor, the occasional apology and a little something else when the boys weren’t looking, warmed her insides in a way the spicy sauce couldn’t touch.
Is this what it would have been like if she hadn’t left? Joe and their kids sharing really bad knock-knock jokes over pizza, the promise of a private, late-night dessert in his eyes? Love, laughter and five pizza sauce-smeared pairs of jeans in the laundry?
Or would she have resented every day of mopping up muddy floors and potty-training misfires until she couldn’t stand it—or him—anymore? Would their marriage have survived his name being splashed across bestseller lists while hers graced permission slips and the electric bill?
“Be right back.” Joe pushed his chair back and stood.
“What? Where are you going?” And why wasn’t he taking the kids with him?
He laughed at her. “I’ll be right back. Promise.”
He’d left her alone with them once and look what had happened—the destruction of a perfectly good book, among other things. She knew nothing about kids. Nobody in her life had children, or if they did, they were tucked away somewhere with high-priced au pairs or illegal nannies.
“He’s probably going to check his messages or call his agent,” Danny told her.
“Oh. From a pay phone?”
“His cell.”
“He told me there isn’t any reception up here.” Lying rat bastard.
Brian laughed. “If you go behind the pizza place and stand up on top of the picnic table closest to the Dumpster and face east and the weather’s good, you can get two bars.”
Which would be helpful if she hadn’t been forced to leave her cell phone at her parents’ house. As much as she wanted to see Joe standing on a picnic table to get reception and then cajole him into letting her climb up and access her voicemail remotely, she couldn’t risk leaving the kids alone. So far they seemed orderly enough, but God
She’d broken his heart. She was using him to get ahead at work. She lived as far away as possible without leaving the contiguous states.
She laughed at something one of the boys said.
Hot. Alone. Cabin.
The pizza place wasn’t packed, so they were able to shove two tables together and seat all six. Then the fun began.
One boy refused to eat pizza without pepperoni, and one refused to eat it. One wanted mushrooms, another gagged. No anchovies, two for sausage, one for hamburger, and a unanimous no to black olives. Joe let them carry on for a few minutes and then ordered a large pepperoni, a large cheese and a large half-mushroom, half-sausage.
When Keri put her order in for a salad, five pairs of Kowalski eyes stared at her in disbelief.
“Salad?” they echoed as one.
“Vegetables are good for you.”
Joe just shook his head and turned back to the counter. “We’ll also have a small Hawaiian pizza with half the sauce and twice the pineapple.”
Keri’s mouth started watering and her tear ducts nearly followed suit. Did the fact a man she hadn’t seen in nearly twenty years knew her better than anyone else speak to her being a social hermit or had he really loved her that much?
Tilting pinball machines kept the boys’ squabbling to a minimum and Joe went through enough quarters to buy a decent used car before their number was finally called. Between the two of them, they managed to get the boys seated and began dispensing slices.
“Mine’s supposed to have pepperoni.”
“Ew, a mushroom touched mine!”
“You’re supposed to blow on it, not spit.”
“Danny’s has more cheese than mine.”
“Look at this.”
“Oh, dude, that’s so gross!”
As Keri finally bit into her first slice, she wondered how Lisa managed to get through each day with her sobriety intact. Even having just two of the boys would have driven Keri to drink. A lot . And their Uncle Joe wasn’t helping, with the hyperactivity of either the boys or her hormones.
The way he kept looking at her, his eyes filled with humor, the occasional apology and a little something else when the boys weren’t looking, warmed her insides in a way the spicy sauce couldn’t touch.
Is this what it would have been like if she hadn’t left? Joe and their kids sharing really bad knock-knock jokes over pizza, the promise of a private, late-night dessert in his eyes? Love, laughter and five pizza sauce-smeared pairs of jeans in the laundry?
Or would she have resented every day of mopping up muddy floors and potty-training misfires until she couldn’t stand it—or him—anymore? Would their marriage have survived his name being splashed across bestseller lists while hers graced permission slips and the electric bill?
“Be right back.” Joe pushed his chair back and stood.
“What? Where are you going?” And why wasn’t he taking the kids with him?
He laughed at her. “I’ll be right back. Promise.”
He’d left her alone with them once and look what had happened—the destruction of a perfectly good book, among other things. She knew nothing about kids. Nobody in her life had children, or if they did, they were tucked away somewhere with high-priced au pairs or illegal nannies.
“He’s probably going to check his messages or call his agent,” Danny told her.
“Oh. From a pay phone?”
“His cell.”
“He told me there isn’t any reception up here.” Lying rat bastard.
Brian laughed. “If you go behind the pizza place and stand up on top of the picnic table closest to the Dumpster and face east and the weather’s good, you can get two bars.”
Which would be helpful if she hadn’t been forced to leave her cell phone at her parents’ house. As much as she wanted to see Joe standing on a picnic table to get reception and then cajole him into letting her climb up and access her voicemail remotely, she couldn’t risk leaving the kids alone. So far they seemed orderly enough, but God
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