Chapter 13

Before I change my mind, I tell him, “Come in. But you can’t stay long.”

“No problem,” he whispers and rises off the floor. One of his palms finds my back, and he provides it with a soothing and heartfelt palm-rub. He carries the pizza with him and enters my apartment.

* * * *

“We’re all worried about you,” he says, sitting beside me on the sofa. We’ve finished eating the pizza. Four slices remain; leftovers for tomorrow’s breakfast or lunch.

“Who’s worried about me?” The pizza was delicious, perfectly DeLucca. The three types of cheeses spectacular.

“Me. Your mom. Jesus.”

“Jesus?” I ask, half smiling, knowing he doesn’t have a religious bone in his body.

He nods. “Yes, Jesus. She cares about all of us.”

“Jesus is a female?” I ask him, enjoying our conversation and his fresh whimsy.

“Of course. Why not?”

“I like your thinking, Jamie.”