"Are you sure? Are you really ..really...sure?" Sal was ecstatic. This couldn't possibly be. Molly wanted to adopt Dez. He was doing his best to simmer down, just the way Puck reminded him.
Sal was in the middle of making Valentines day cookies. Actually. He'd never made them before. There was a time or two, he wanted to run off to the bakery to fetch a dozen, but he'd have to get Dez ready for the trip, and Dez was so happy watching Sal in the kitchen. Sal couldn't mess that up.
Valentines was never his big holiday. He didn't really believe in getting flowers. They'd been over that story a million times, how they just die. Old wilted things, after awhile. Luckily, Puck brought home a dozen red roses for Molly and Tess too. He'd gotten home fifteen minutes before the girls arrived. Sal knew he owed Puck.
"So tonight..." He was making sirloin and lobster. A real feast. "Maybe we should go out." He smiled with a shrug. After all it was a bit of a celebration. Molly deciding to be a mother to Dez.
"That's not necessary." She picked up the baby from his swing.
"Hmmm.." He could honestly use a drink right now. He could, but he wouldn't. He was practically covered up to his armpits in flour. Sal went to check on the cookies. Browning nicely this time. He switched off the oven. "I guess I should get out that lovely wine, you like so much." He went to find it under the baker's rack Suddenly, he felt nervous. As if she really did love them both. How could he have doubted her? Thinking he needed to jump through hoops and the like to impress her.
They were fine. Actually, fine.
"Maybe we shouldn't keep Dez, all to ourselves." Molly sighed as she held Dez's fat little hand in her fingers. He was drooling on her best sweater. And she wasn't even fretting.
"Well? When have we ever?" Sal winced with a laugh as he uncorked the wine and poured it into some wine glasses. "We've got Puck and Tess. And my mom. Kramer's the best uncle in the world. Your parents gave Dez such a sweet Christmas present."
"No, I mean Michelle." She looked at him.
Sal thought he might have a stroke. He gulped at his glass of wine. "What ever are you talking about?" There was no need to even mention her name. He never wanted to speak of Michelle.