The Best-Kept Secret. Melinda Curtis
of friends who shared the challenges of single parenthood. Well, at least until recently, when three of the friends—Margo, Nora and Derrick—had found someone special to share love and parenting with. Rosie opened the door for Selena, knowing she hadn’t planned to stop long anyway. “Thank you for the paints.”
“And the advice. Don’t forget to thank me for the advice.” Selena grinned as she dragged Axel out the door and down the back stairs to the alley where she’d parked her car.
“TIME TO PLACE our order, Case.” Rosie dug her wallet out of her purse. Pizza night meant descending the stairs to Chin-Chin’s to place their dinner order.
“All right.” Casey rolled off the couch where they’d been watching a movie together and where he’d contracted a severe case of bed-head.
“Go brush your hair.” Rosie pointed to the bathroom. She’d pulled hers back into a simple ponytail.
“Mrs. Chin doesn’t care how I look,” Casey pouted, dragging his feet down the hallway.
“But I do,” Rosie called after him. When Casey wasn’t presentable, Rosie felt as if every parent judged her and found her lacking.
They placed their order, but not before Mrs. Chin, grandmother of twelve, chastised Rosie for not making Casey eat something more nutritious—“Maybe squid? Or shrimp on his pizza?”—which caused Casey’s stress level to ratchet to Defcon 4, more commonly known as wailing-and-close-to-tears. Drained, they climbed up the creaky wooden stairs with their salads to their apartment with the promise of a phone call when their pizza was ready.
As they began eating their ordinary lettuce with ranch dressing, Rosie started to regret missing her meal at Plouf, which made her think of Hudson once more. The man had hardly left her thoughts all afternoon. Why couldn’t Hudson see he had no future in politics if he didn’t open up and explain his past? And why had Hudson awakened her hibernating libido?
“Mommy, why can’t I have a little brother? Everyone else has one.” Casey blinked in faux innocence as if it was the first time he’d asked.
The question was loaded with pitfalls, so Rosie set aside thoughts of Hudson and considered her words carefully. “First off, not everyone has a little brother. I don’t.”
“You don’t count.” Casey was quite good at pouting. If she wasn’t his mother, she might have fallen for that look and felt sorry for him.
“Secondly, you need a daddy around to get a little brother. I’m afraid it’s just you and me.” She’d told Casey his daddy had gone to heaven. Thankfully, he hadn’t ask many questions about Samuel. Rosie dreaded the day when she had to explain she hadn’t known Casey’s father well enough to find out if she loved him or not. Marriage had certainly never been discussed. She wasn’t going to be Casey’s best role model for abstinence.
“Why do you have to be so old?” Casey slumped and fingered a chess piece he’d brought to the table.
Considering Rosie was only twenty-nine, she gave her son the look of disapproval she’d learned upon seeing it so often from her own mom. It was the same look she’d given Hudson earlier.
“You’re not a kid, Mommy.” Casey squirmed, not willing to give up just yet. “I don’t have anyone to play with at home, not even a dog.”
“Oh, so it’s a choice between a dog or a little brother?”
“I’m bored all the time.” Casey caught her gaze as it drifted over to the window sill where the paintings they’d made this afternoon dried, and added petulantly, “And you’re always working.”
That was so unfair. Rosie pushed the lettuce around with her fork, refusing to let Casey see he’d upset her. She’d turned down numerous assignments because she couldn’t accompany candidates on most evening or out-of-state appearances. She tried not to work until after Casey went to bed. Rosie put her son first as much as possible and despite that he was still able to make her feel guilty.
Casey wasn’t about to let up. “Mo-mmy—”
Someone knocked on the door. If they weren’t busy downstairs, Mrs. Chin sometimes delivered.
“That’s our pizza. Why don’t you get out the plates, Case?”
“I hate setting the table.” Casey crossed his thin arms over his chest.
“It’s only two plates. You’d hate it more if you had another place to set…say for a little brother.”
“PIZZA’S HERE.” Hud held up the take-out boxes when Rosie’s face didn’t register a warm smile of welcome. She wore relaxed blue jeans and a short T-shirt that hugged her curves, but Rosie seemed wound up tighter than the curls she’d caught in a ponytail at the nape of her neck. “I ordered breadsticks and noodles, too.”
“Is that the mayor?” Casey peeked from behind the door.
Rosie scowled at Casey’s reference, while Hud’s smile widened.
“Hey, you don’t have work clothes on.” The boy wiggled past Rosie’s leg and took in Hud’s jeans and sweater with an approving nod. “We already watched the videos, so you missed out.”
Given Rosie’s closed expression, the boy was going to be his best bet to get inside. Hud bent his knees to bring him closer to the kid’s level. “I offered to buy you dinner. But when I stopped in downstairs they said you’d already ordered, so I did the next best thing—I delivered it.”
“You shanghaied our dinner?” Rosie crossed her arms over her chest.
Kneeling at her feet, Hud gave Rosie his most charming grin. “I told you we had to talk. I’ll let you have your food if you let me in.”
“Are you someone’s daddy?” Imitating his mom, Casey crossed his twiglike arms over his chest. Hudson recognized the calculating expression on the little guy’s face. “I don’t think you are ’cause daddies don’t steal people’s pizza.”
“I’m not a daddy,” Hud confirmed with a wink. “And it would only be stealing if I ate it all myself.”
“Good, ’cause my mommy’s sell-batey and I don’t have a little brother.” Casey’s long face split into a grin as he gazed up at Rosie. “I like the mayor.”
Hud straightened and tried to look innocent, wondering what “sell-batey” meant in adult speak.
“Casey,” Rosie warned. She seemed more tense than when she’d first opened the door.
The kid stood at attention and tried to tow his mother’s line. “Leave him outside, Mommy. We can call the cops. Stealing isn’t nice.”
“I agree,” Rosie said, reaching for her pizza with a dangerous gleam in her eye. “Hand over the food slowly and no one gets hurt.”
Hud took a step back, his mind racing. He could see the small table behind them with two take-out containers with salad, glasses of milk and a chess piece. Gambling, Hud appealed to Casey again. “Tell you what. If you let me in, I’ll play a game of chess with you.”
“You play chess?” the little guardian asked with interest.
“I haven’t played in a long time, but I still remember how.” Things were looking up. “It was one of my favorite games as a kid.”
Casey tried pushing the door open wider but Rosie held firm. “You can’t con your way in by sweet-talking my five-year-old.”
In spite of the stakes, Hud was enjoying their wrangling.
“What does con mean?” Casey asked before Hud could regroup.
“He’s trying to trick you. I doubt he knows how to play chess.”
With a gasp, Casey shook his finger at Hud. “Lying and stealing aren’t nice. Mr. Stephanopolis at the park is good at chess.