They exchanged weak, grateful smiles and were interrupted by a whoop of delight as Theo announced the arrival of dinner.
Ollie had paid online, so he let Theo run to the door to get it.
When he was out of earshot, Ty took the opportunity to say, “So listen, there’s something I always wanted to do as a kid and never got the chance, but you’re the parent in the house, so….”
Ollie raised his eyebrows.
“Can we eat pizza and watch a movie?”
Why did Ollie suddenly have visions of someone saying that that furniture was forcompany, that pizza wasn’t dinner, and that dinnertime was for family—even though he already knew Ty’s dad rarely ate with him growing up?
“Theo’s going to want to watchMoneyball,” he warned.
Ty beamed. “That’s cool. I haven’t seen that yet.”
“Also….” Ollie gestured expansively around the living room. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed earlier. “You don’t have a TV.”
“Yeah, the old man thought television was for plebs unless the Red Sox were playing. He always watched that in his office. It still reeks like cigars in there, though. I’ll pull the TV out and we can put it in the living room.”
“You also don’t have a TV stand,” Ollie pointed out.
“So we’ll put the TV on the floor for tonight.”
Now Ollie was starting to get a clearer picture. “And sit in front of it like kids at a sleepover?” he guessed.
From the sheepish expression on Ty’s face, Ollie was right on the money.
The idea felt safe and wholesome and welcoming. It felt fun too, at least in theory, which was removed from the reality of what Ollie’s thirty-two-year-old ass felt like after two hours sitting on the floor. The part of him that was just a guy, that wanted his kid’s approval above everything, the one who’d recently lost the closest friend he’d ever sat on the floor to eat pizza with, wanted to say yes.
Unfortunately, Ollie couldn’t always be that guy. “I don’t think it’s such a good idea.”
Ty’s face fell. “Oh. Yeah, you’re probably right.”
“It’s a school night.” Ollie was not prepared for the way the disappointment in Ty’s voice cut him. Being a dad had made him soft when it came to saying no, apparently—and he wasn’t even saying no. “And I’m not sure he’s going to have time for a movie and homework and unpacking and getting to bed on time.”
“Ohhh,” Ty said again. “I didn’t think of that.”
“But we could do it Saturday night. Maybe with popcorn instead of pizza?” Ollie didn’t want Theo eating a steady diet of takeout. He had barely overcome the urge to feed him nothing but cancer-fighting antioxidants, and that was mostly because he couldn’t subject himself to any more of Theo’s obnoxious broccoli farts.
“Deal,” Ty said. “Can’t wait.”
Strangely, Ollie believed him.
INSTEAD OFheading right to the ball diamond when the elementary school let out on Thursday, Ty swung by the third-grade classrooms to pick up his assistant.
“Ty!”
“Theo!” Ty high-fived him, then leaned down to stage whisper, “It’s Coach M until after practice, okay?”
Theo pushed his glasses up his nose. “Can I be Coach T?”
Ty considered the odds of the high school kids reacting well to that and decided on probably not. “Tell you what, we’ll workshop it.” He held the door as they walked outside into the sunshine. “So your dad tells me you love baseball.”
“It’s the best.”
“What’s your favorite team?”
“Washington Nationals.”
