Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Chapter 9
Drew
“This is the best cheesecake I’ve ever had,” London decrees after the first bite. “Please tell me you’ll share the recipe.”
“Happy to,” Mom replies with a satisfied grin. “Do you like to cook, London?”
“Bake,” she says with a nod. “I love to bake. I honestly don’t cook a lot, but I love a cozy, warm kitchen with something in the oven, especially at this time of the year.”
“She makes the best cookies ever,” Caleb announces. “We’ll bring you some.”
Mom winks over at me and then smiles at Caleb. “Well, I would love that. Thank you.”
When I first invited London and Caleb to dinner, I worried that I was rushing things. The look on her face was one of startled terror, and I tried to backpedal, in case she just wasn’t ready for this. It didn’t occur to me in the moment that she might misconstrue a casual dinner as something big. I just knew that I wanted to include London and her son in a nice dinner with my parents.
I’m grateful that she accepted. I can tell that both of my parents get a kick out of Caleb, which doesn’t surprise me. He’s a great kid, easy to have around and talk to. Sure, he asks a lot of questions, but he’s not obnoxious about it at all.
But seeing my mom with London has been the thing that I’ve enjoyed the most this evening. They laugh and chat like they’ve been friends for a long time. They have plenty in common, and there hasn’t been even a moment of uncomfortable silence since we walked through the door.
It’s easy and fun.
They fit here, in my universe.
“Your sisters will be disappointed that they didn’t meet London and Caleb,” Dad says as he pushes away his empty plate.
“They’re nosy,” I reply.
“They’re twins,” Caleb informs the table. “Do they look the same?”
“They do,” Mom says with a nod. “Come with me. I’ll show you some pictures.”
“Okay.” Caleb stands but pauses and glances at his mom. “May I please be excused with Brynna?”
“Sure. Thank you for asking.” London leans over and kisses her son’s cheek, and then he’s off, chasing after my mom.
“He’s a cutie,” Dad says, turning to London. “You’ve done an excellent job in raising that young man, London. He’s polite, smart, and funny.”
“Thank you.” London flushes in happiness at the compliment. “That might be the best compliment I’ve ever received.”
“Is his father out of the picture?” I already informed him of this the other night, but leave it to my dad to grill someone and hear it from the source himself.
“Yes.” London puts her hand on mine before I can interrupt. “He passed away when Caleb was about three. It’s just been the two of us for a long time now. Well, that’s not true. We have my brother, Rome, who comes around often. Caleb loves him a lot.”
Dad nods, and we can hear Mom and Caleb both laughing in the next room.
“What made you decide to buy the football team?” Dad asks. Honestly, this is something I keep meaning to ask, as well, so I’m interested to hear her response.
“Rome came to me about it,” she says after taking the last bite of her cheesecake. “We’d seen the mess that the former owner made in the press, of course, and we knew that the league would make her sell. Rome and I are both wealthy in our own rights, but not rich enough to buy the team. So, we made a business plan and took it to our father, and he agreed to back it. Rome and I each own 5 percent of the team, and my father owns the other ninety, but he’s a silent partner. He doesn’t have any interest in the sport.”
“But you do.”
London nods at my father’s statement. “We do. We’ve watched football together forever. Rome played in high school and in college, and after that, we would get together on Sundays to watch. We knew it would be a good business decision, so we went for it. So far, it’s going very well.”
“Good for you,” Dad replies with a nod. “I know that Will’s damn happy there, and he tells me that the changes you’ve made have been excellent ones.”
“That means a lot to me because I respect your brother immensely. No one knows this team the way he does. So, hearing he’s happy means the world.”
“Drew used to have a mohawk,” Caleb announces as he comes running back into the room, a photograph in his hand. “Look, Mom.”
He passes the photo to London and laughs.
“Hey, it was just for the summer,” I insist. “I thought it was cool. Also, why is my mother showing you photos that old?”
“She showed me all the really old ones,” Caleb informs me. “And she told me that your real name isn’t Drew at all. It’s Michael Andrew.”