“This is the best spaghetti I’ve ever tasted.” Gretchen’s compliment made TJ blush and I smiled.

“He’s a much better cook than I am.”

“Like Doc?” Gretchen winked.

“Better.” I touched my knee to TJ’s under the table and he looked up at me, his eyes tender. “Although I admit, Doc could make a hell of a sandwich.”

“Mmm god yes.” Gretchen’s tone changed and she gave a low, throaty moan that reminded me immediately what it was like between us. Her eyes met mine and they said it all. “He still can.”

The double entendre didn’t escape any of us. I couldn’t help but remember-not only the night Doc and I snuck downstairs to make sandwiches and, while Mrs. B slept upstairs, he fucked me on the kitchen counter, but also there was the clear memory of being sandwiched between Doc and Mrs. B in more positions than I had ever imagined.

Gretchen’s hand found my knee under the table and squeezed. She leaned forward, eager, earnest. “You are coming aren’t you?”

I shrugged, not looking up. “I don’t know, Gretch…”

“Oh, Ronnie, you have to come,” she pleaded with both voice and eyes.

“This is the last summer we’re all going together. Henry’s graduating this year, and I’m… well… things are changing. It would be so good, like old times.” I glanced at TJ. “I’ve never really left our daughter for so long…”

“She loves staying with your mother.” He shrugged, no help at all. I knew what he wanted, what he hoped.

“You could always bring her…?” Gretchen suggested.

“No. Out of the question.” I shook my head, adamant, and they both looked at me, surprised. I shrugged. “And really, I think two weeks is a long time to be gone…”

“I could stay here with her for a week,” TJ offered. “Let you go out there for a week, and then fly out to meet you for the second…” Gretchen brightened. “What a great idea.”

“TJ…” I gave him a warning look but he ignored it.