What's Life Without the Sprinkles - By Misty Simon Page 0,74

see what I can do.” He left Justin standing at the double doors and tried to figure out what the hell he was going to say to Peter. What if the man didn’t realize Justin was having a horrible time?

But he didn’t have to worry so much. As soon as he approached Peter and the other man looked up, the relief in Peter’s eyes was crystal clear. “Please, man, tell me you’ve come to save me. I don’t have the faintest damn idea what I’m doing here. All these fathers know their kids’ batting average.”

Nate knew Justin’s. It was .178.

“They know his favorite color and what his favorite food is.”

Green. And Tastykakes, when he could get away with it, via Nate. Claudia wouldn’t let him near that over-processed treat. But Nate didn’t say any of these things, because Peter did truly look bewildered. Nate knew how tough this must have been for both the kid and the man. He wouldn’t say “father,” since all these things would be common knowledge for anyone interested in a child’s life. But Peter had never even met Justin until this week. Had no contact with him at all other than one birthday card when he was three.

“Justin was thinking I could drive him home, since I’m here,” Nate said, looking down at the carpet and giving the guy the chance to gracefully bow out of the whole thing.

Peter took it. “That would be great, man. If you don’t mind, I’ll head back to May’s. I have some packing to do. I think Justin was done here, anyway. I’ll just say goodbye on my way out.” He clapped Nate on the shoulder as he walked toward the double doors.

It was that easy. Nate hung back for a second to let father and son say goodbye to each other. The body language was all wrong. Justin leaned away from Peter when the man put an arm over his shoulders. Peter seemed to take the hint and offered his hand for a more manly shake. Then he was out the door.

Taking his time, Nate strolled over to Justin and offered him the one thing he probably needed the most. “Ice cream?”

The kid’s whole face creased into a smile. “Yeah.”

****

Peter slammed a hand into his steering wheel as he tore out of the elementary school parking lot. The Mustang rumbled under him and classic Depeche Mode shot from the speakers, drowning out the voices mocking him in his head.

He’d failed tonight, there were no two ways about it. He didn’t know the first thing about the strange alien person who carried his blood. While other fathers were whipping out baseball trading cards of their kids and talking about all the activities and sports they participated in, he was hard pressed to remember what Justin’s middle name was. He had no idea if Justin played sports at all. He couldn’t even come up with whether he liked chicken or beef at dinner.

The whole night had been a disaster, beginning with the moment he’d picked the boy up and seen how stunning Claudia looked in a pair of sweats with thick, brightly striped socks on her feet.

He didn’t know what the hell he was doing here, or why he had come back, other than to help his father. He wasn’t being much help there, either. He and Roger had never really gotten along. His father liked to brag about the business Peter did and the deals he made, but they never talked like May and Roger talked.

This visit was no exception. Normally, his family came to him. May had tried for a while, once she came back home, to get him to take an interest in Justin. She’d sent kindergarten pictures and drawings the boy had done. But Peter had had no interest. He had more deals to put together, his own life to lead. When he’d left Claudia three months pregnant and pursued his dreams, he’d never meant to come back.

And he’d been right to do so. There was nothing here for him. He should just go home now.

He went back to May’s, told her his decision, listened to her bitch about it, and then went to bed to get some sleep before his start out of town the next morning. He’d made his decision, and he would not be swayed.

He only had one more thing to do on his way out of town.

****

Claudia’s cell phone rang in her Decadence apron pocket a half hour before a bride was