Back then at least.
With a glance at me, Mom gauged that I’d followed her eye line and thus, her train of thought.
“You were so good with them,” she said. “You always helped me keep the little ones behaved.”
“Despite being a kid myself. I was ten when you had me babysitting everyone.”
“But you had fun, remember? You loved making up games to keep them distracted. I can’t even count the number of tantrums you saved us,” she laughed to herself. It wound down to a sigh. “You’re like your father. Very stern, very serious. But you
light up around children.”
“Mom,” I warned.
“Okay, alright.” She held her hands up, her voice quickly losing its dreamy quality. “I’m sorry. I was just going through the old photo albums last night, and I found so many baby pictures,” she explained. “I actually have a nice one of Lucie. I don’t know if you might want that.”
I turned to face my mother, unsure if it was a serious question. “No. I don’t want that.”
“Okay. Sorry.” She was genuinely apologetic this time. I could feel her watching me for the next few seconds that I kept my eyes decidedly on the game. Reaching for my hand, Mom squeezed it. “Listen, Julian,” she started seriously. I feared the speech she was preparing to launch into. But with a smile, she said, “Ozzy’s my grandchild.”
I broke into a grin. My eyes slid over to Ozzy.
“Yes. Your drooling, orange grandchild,” I said, amused as usual by the Staffordshire bull terrier staring back at me over Emmett’s shoulder. It was always wearing the same stupid perma-grin as my brother, and the two were both simple, easygoing – generally motivated by food, so they really did bear a father-son resemblance.
“Anyway, I meant to tell you I made a reservation at Greta’s for Father’s Day next week, since that’s Dad’s favorite. All six of your cousins will be in attendance this year. Significant others, too.”
“That sounds good,” I lied, catching the tennis ball Emmett lobbed at me without warning. I tossed it somewhere safe for Ozzy to fetch. “There’s a slight chance I’ll be away on business, but I doubt it’ll fall on Father’s Day.”
“Oh.” Her voice was deliberately flat. “Are you finally selling the thing?”
The thing. That was what she called that multi-million dollar resort in Biarritz. My teeth clenched at first, but I relaxed.
“Yes. As soon as possible, and hopefully to Turner and Carter Roth. You’ve met them.”
“Oh yes, I remember those two.”
“Yeah, they’re… idiots. But idiots that can do a lot of good for this stadium. Their resources can help us make this stadium what we all dreamed of,” I said just as Ozzy jumped on me with the tennis ball half-annihilated in his mouth. Mom barely flinched as she wrestled the slobbery thing out from his jaws and tossed it at Emmett.
“You’ve been working so hard,” she said, watching Ozzy dart around. “They would both be so proud of you, Julian. I sincerely hope you know that.”
It was as much of a compliment as it was a request that I relax at some point, and let everything go. I wasn’t sure if that was going to happen, nor did I want to entertain the discussion. Thankfully, Mom let me off the hook to lecture Emmett.
“Emmett, maybe you should get him a brother to play with.”
“Ma, you gotta be kidding me. Ozzy’s three. I can’t handle another one now.”
“I read somewhere it’s not good to keep a dog without giving it a friend.”
“Mom.” Emmett groaned to the skies. “Stop with the grandkid thing,” he said. “Ask Julian about a girl named Sara.”
Mom sat upright to stare at me.
“Who?”
Little shit. I directed my death look at Emmett before promptly excusing myself and striding out of the suite before I could be questioned.
ME: I’m going to have you banned from the stadium.
I sent the text to Emmett as my footsteps echoed down the empty hall. He fired back fast.