Chapter 17
His heart rate sped up and he searched for a change of subject. “Um, so about the game?”
Sam looked at him. “I think Thurston will be fine. If it gets to be too much, we can take him home. My uncle’s about his age. They might have a good time together. Besides, even if we stay for only half the game, it would probably be a nice outing for your dad.”
Graham trusted the man sitting across from him. “Okay. Thursday at the Royals. Sounds like a plan.”
He dug into his ravioli. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been to Olive Garden and had forgotten how good the food was. He moaned a little and tried not to laugh when Sam’s fork clattered to the table.