The Trouble With Quarterbacks

“Well then, let’s set off!” I say, hurrying toward the vehicle. I get in first, followed by Briggs, and then Logan. We fill the back seat, and Pat’s up front with a friendly smile and a nod in greeting.

We buckle up then Briggs passes over my sunflowers.

“Those are for you. I picked them special myself.”

“Wow. They’re lovely.”

“Do you like yellow?” He sounds deeply concerned, like maybe he’s worried he made the wrong choice.

“Absolutely. One of the best colors there is. It always reminds me of sunshine.”

Briggs grins and looks over to Logan to give him a little thumbs-up, like they’ve really pulled off quite a wonderful surprise.

Logan glances over at me over top of Briggs’ head. I mouth a thank you, and then he reaches back over the edge of Briggs’ car seat to touch my shoulder. It’s the first time we’ve touched in days—since the gala—and I’m starved for more. We didn’t even get a proper hug out on the street.

“We’re going to eat at a very fancy place,” Briggs says, jarring me out of the private moment with Logan. “The food is going to be dazzling.”

My brows shoot up. “Dazzling, huh?”

“Yes, dazzling. Like in that book you read to us yesterday.”

“Wow, I’m very excited.”

We end up pulling off into an alley a few minutes later, and Pat must see my confusion because he offers, “Better if you two go in the back door. The restaurant knows to be discreet, and this way you all can eat like normal people.”

I beam. “Brilliant! Ready, Briggs? We’ll be like secret agents sneaking in the back!”

“I’m ready!” he says, taking my hand.

As promised, there’s a hostess waiting just at the door, ready to usher us to a private table in a back room, which we have all to ourselves. Logan and Briggs have brought me to a lovely little Italian restaurant, not real posh and modern or anything, but I like it all the same. There are real ivy plants growing on the tables and those old-school red and white checkered tablecloths.

“This is my favorite restaurant,” Logan tells me, leading me to my chair so he can tug it out for me to sit. “There’s no better Italian food in the whole city. I swear.”

“Oh good! I’m starved. Let’s get loads of bread.”

“Uncle Logan,” Briggs says, clearing his throat. “Could you go sit over there?” He points to the door of the private room where there’s another small table set for two. “Since this is a real date, Ms. Candace and me should be at our own table.”

I use my napkin to smother a laugh as Logan rolls his eyes. “Okay there, Casanova. Cool your jets and I’ll see if they have some chicken nuggets on the menu.”

“And ketchup!” Briggs adds, having forgotten all about his request to sit alone with me.

Logan sits beside me, and Briggs takes the seat across from me.

When our waiter comes, Logan asks if I want some wine, and I nod my head greedily. “Whatever you think is best. I’m not picky at all.”

“Let’s just do the house red then. The bottle, please. And Briggs?”

“I’ll take your finest purple. Juice, that is,” he says, looking up at the waiter. “With a straw.”

I bark out a laugh and Logan rubs his temple as if to say, I can’t handle this kid anymore. “Briggs, how about we remember our manners and add on a please there at the end, bud?”

“Right. With a straw, please.”

The waiter smiles and nods. “Right away, sir. I have a bottle of Welch’s I think you’ll really enjoy.”

Then he winks at Logan and me and leaves the room.

“This is the most dazzling date I’ve ever been on,” I say, and Briggs perks up in his seat. “Though I will say, I think you’re a bit too young for me.”

“I know, I know. It’s really my uncle you like because he’s so big and tall, right?” He sits up in his chair even more, as if trying to compensate for the fact that he’s only three years old. “When I grow up, I’m going to be just like him.”

Logan seems embarrassed by the attention, and instead of responding, he opens up the coloring page and a pack of crayons the waiter left for Briggs.

“Here you go. They have a maze on there I bet you can do with your eyes closed.”

“With my eyes closed! You’re so silly!”

The coloring page does occupy him, though, long enough for me to turn to Logan and aim a little smile his way. “I do like the look of this place. It’s not at all where I thought you’d take me.”

He nods as if understanding what I mean. “There are nicer places in the city. I mean, it’s New York. There are probably a thousand places to eat that would take ten hours and come with a dozen courses, but I really like their lasagna here, and well…you can’t beat Italian food.”