Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 35440 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 142(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35440 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 142(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
At least, I think.
“Papa,” Calliope simpers as she looks at her father, sitting at the head of the table to her left. “Why would you ask such a thing?”
“Because it’s obvious there’s something going on between you two,” Mateo retorts with a knowing look at his daughter.
“You’ve been going over to Calliope’s in the evenings,” my mother points out, and my return glare calls her out for the traitor she is. She merely smiles sweetly back at me.
“And you two haven’t stopped stealing glances at each other all evening,” Danielle remarks with a sly grin.
“And you’ve been in an extraordinarily good mood the last few days,” my dad chimes in.
Calliope ducks her head, hiding an amused smile.
I merely take my napkin and wipe at my lips, stalling for time as I collect my thoughts. I need to tread carefully here, so as not to get any parent’s hopes up that we’re back together in a normal relationship. I don’t want to poke at Mateo’s ire either.
Finally, I say neutrally, “We’ve rekindled our friendship. Calliope has been a great support to me since I returned home.”
I glance around the table. Not one of our parents seem to be buying that lame statement. My dad actually snorts.
“She’s been invaluable in explaining the medical details of Dad’s condition,” I assert, knowing in my heart of hearts that sounds even lamer. But I can’t stop now. “She’s a good friend. A childhood acquaintance. Those ties remained strong throughout the years, and—”
“We’re friends with benefits now,” Calliope says, and my entire body flushes hot as my eyes snap over to Mateo, prepared for him to spring across the table and lunge at me. His eyes rest heavy and hard upon me, and I flush hotter.
“Calliope Colleen Ramirez,” Danielle exclaims, clearly mortified by her daughter’s outburst.
I turn my gaze slowly to Calliope, giving her a death glare. She reaches out and pats her dad’s arm. “It’s fine, Papa. Your little girl—who is, in fact, a woman now and doesn’t need protecting—knows exactly what she wants. Oh, and Rafe was also telling the truth...we are indeed friends, and I’m here to support him in any way I can.”
God, the way she supported me last night with my balls heavy in her hands—
I shake my head, clearing those thoughts because I’m apparently way more transparent than I gave myself credit for this evening.
“Well, I for one think it’s lovely that the two of you have”—my mom struggles to find the right words and then brightens—“rekindled your friendship. You two have a lot of years of history between you, and it makes me happy.”
“Me, too,” my dad says with a firm nod. “I’m glad Rafe will have someone to lean on when I’m gone.”
And just like that, the mood turns from awkward and weird to somber. The silence around the table is heavy, thick with a gravity that’s hard to dispel.
But, to my surprise, it’s Mateo who saves the day. Who takes the gentleman’s way out when he could have easily throttled me. He holds up his wine glass. “I propose a toast.”
No one moves for a second, and then slowly, other wine glasses are raised.
Mateo looks straight at me. “Here’s to friendship. Among all of us. To my extended neighborhood family—and in particular, to Calliope and Rafe—may they find exactly what they’re looking for while on this new path.”
I nod at Mateo and reach my glass to the middle of the table, where we all clink in acknowledgment of the toast.
My eyes move to Calliope, her gaze shimmering with mischief as she stares back at me. Well, at least it’s all out in the open now.
I guess there’s that.
Chapter 10
Calliope
I’ve been to Houlihan’s numerous times over my life, many times with my family, a few times when Rafe and I were dating, but never on a game night. Since the Cold Fury franchise came to Raleigh in 1997 when I was just four years old, they set up Houlihan’s as their hangout since it’s right across the street from the arena.
There is a large segment of fans that don’t bother going to the games but instead come to Houlihan’s where they camp out at the bar and dinner tables, knowing that many of the players come to hang out after the game.
Over the years, it’s become a tradition, and the players rub elbows and mix with the commoners. It’s supposedly quite a treat, but it’s also a packed madhouse, so you need to be prepared to wait forever to get a table, and if you’re lucky enough to land that, then you have to wait forever to be served your food and drink.
Mostly, it’s just people elbow to elbow, standing around, drinking beers and munching on chicken wings, waiting for the team to come in after a glorious five-to-two victory over the Boston Eagles to take game two of the second round of the playoffs. The atmosphere is electric, the mood jubilant.