“What’s wrong with Louie?” Dallas asked almost instantly about the little boy who had sat beside him—and a couple of times partially on top of him—for hours, playing some shooting game.

My shrug was more helpless than I would have liked for it to be. “Strep throat.”

Both men winced and I nodded.

“I need to give Josh a call and check up on him, he’s supposed to have batting practice tonight but I don’t know if he’s sick or not.” God, I hoped not. “I’ll see you later.”

“Okay, see ya, honey,” Trip said.

I smiled at him and just as I did that, Dallas added, “Hope Lou feels better.”

I smiled at him too and watched as both men turned and headed down the street toward the parking lot or mechanic shop, wherever they were going.

Not bothering to cross the street again, I dialed Josh’s school from where I was on the sidewalk, asking first and then demanding that they put him on the phone so I could make sure he was feeling fine. I waited outside the deli until his voice came over the line.

“Hi?”

“J, it’s Di. You okay?”

“Uhh, yeah, why?” He quickly added, “Are you okay? Is everything okay?”

Here went another ton of guilt. I was such an idiot. “Everything is fine. Don’t worry. I’m sorry. Louie got sick and your abuelita had to go pick him up. I just wanted to check with you and make sure you’re feeling okay.”

The long exhale out of him made my heart hurt. “I thought…,” he whispered, his relief evident. “I’m not sick, but you can come pick me up if you want.”

This kid. I couldn’t help but laugh. “Get back to class. Your grandpa is picking you up today,” I said, even though I was sure he hadn’t forgotten. Our schedules hadn’t changed much over the last two years.

“’Kay, bye.”

“Bye, I love you.”

“Love you too,” he whispered right before the line went dead. At least someone loved me.

Wiping at my eyes with the back of my hand, I didn’t realize until right then that I’d gotten teary-eyed at some point. Jesus. I wasn’t sure why I let my mom’s words bother me so much; it wasn’t the first time she’d said a variation of me not doing a good enough job with the boys. It wouldn’t be the last either.

* * *

“What you’re trying to tell me is that you’ve reached blue whale status?”

Vanessa’s laugh on the other end of the phone made me smile as I steered the car down the street toward my house. “Shut up.”

“You’re the one carrying a full-sized kid. I’m only speaking the truth, and you can’t handle the truth.”

“The doctor said he’s in the highest percentile in size—”

“No shit.”

“But he’s not that big—”

“Compared to what exactly? A baby elephant?” Some days, all a girl needed was to talk to her best friend to make a day that hadn’t been great better. I had done enough thinking and replaying everything that happened with my mom. I didn’t want to deal with it any more than I already had, so I’d been relieved when my phone rang and Vanessa’s name had flashed across the screen.

She groaned. “I haven’t gained that much weight,” she argued. “I’m all belly.”

“Until the belly eats the rest of you,” I joked, earning a big laugh out of her that made me smile. “I promise I’m going to try and schedule my trip to visit you. Everything has just been hectic lately. I barely have time to use the bathroom, and even then, someone is banging on the door asking for something.”

“I know, Di. It’s fine. I wanted to tell you I mailed Josh’s birthday present yesterday. Are you ready for his party?”

I almost groaned. The party. Ugh. “Almost,” I answered vaguely.

“That sounds convincing. Fine, I won’t ask. How’s it going with his baseball team?”

Spotting my house coming up, I turned the wheel to pull into the driveway. “He really likes it so far.” It was me who had been having issues with it. “I already got suspended from practice for getting into an argument with a mom on the team.”

“Diana! What did she do? Say something about Josh?”

In normal circumstances, she knew me too well. “She called me Teen Mom.”

There was a pause. Vanessa was a product of a parent who had become one as a teenager. “What a bitch.”

“Uh-huh. It’s fine. He likes it, I’m not worried about it, and the coaches are…” I let out a low whistle. “Not my type, but they’re nice to look at.”

She laughed. “Have your parents brought up him doing soccer again?”

I almost grumbled. That was a sore spot in my family. No matter how many times I explained to my parents that, just because I had two cousins who played professionally, didn’t mean every person with the last name Casillas was going to be good at it. “Nope.”

“And Louie?”

“Still no. He mentioned wanting to try karate, but he’s happy skateboarding for now.”

“I’m sure it’ll—shit. I need to go pee, but I need both hands to get off the couch—”

I just about shouted out a laugh, imagining her trying to get off the couch and failing.

“Shut up. I’ll call you later, okay?”