“So, who’s taking who out for dinner tonight?” the waitress asked.
“I’m treating,” I told her. “Dad’s had a hard week, so he deserves a free meal.”
“You’ve got a good son,” she told Paul.
I looked at him across the booth and our eyes met for a moment before he smiled and told her, “I have a greatson.”
After she took our drink and food orders and left, Paul asked why I didn’t correct the waitress when she assumed I was his son.
“Why didn’t you?” I asked him.
He shrugged. “Once you got the ball rolling, I just went with it. You’re a damn good liar when you want to be.”
“You’re not bad yourself.”
“I hope you weren’t lying about paying for dinner.”
“I hope you weren’t lying when you said I was great.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Then neither was I, Daddy.”
He smiled. “I think you enjoy calling me that.”
“I do.”
Paul took a sip from his water glass before telling me that he’d almost turned down my dinner invitation.