Chapter 7
Tyler leads the way into the kitchen, but he doesn’t pull out a chair to sit at the table. No—he grabs a fistful of paper towels off the roll and streams them out behind him as he switches direction in mid-step to race for the living room. “Pizza!” he cries, a wild look in his eyes that makes me laugh. “Pizzapizzapizza.”
“You’re his new favorite person,” I tell Greg as I take the six-pack from him.
He wraps his now-free arm around my waist and draws me near to claim a kiss. “Funny, you’re mine.”
From the living room, Tyler shouts, “Pizza! Daddy, come on!”
I snicker against Greg’s lips. “We’re being summoned.”
“We’re being bossed around,” Greg corrects. “There’s a difference.”
I take two of the bottles of beer and deposit the remainder in the fridge. A stack of paper plates
