“No? Because I got back into town and heard some pretty interesting stories.”

“You haven’t even been back two hours.”

“Funny how much people talk. Especially when it’s juicy gossip.” He uses the pizza as though it’s a finger, pointing it at me.

“What are people saying?” Amelia asks.

I smile over at her. “Just that I’m the best tickle monster in the world.”

“Daddy . . .”

I grin, stalking over to her slowly, each step taking a few seconds as she scrambles away. “I feel the need to tickle something.”

“The tickle monster doesn’t like little girls,” Amelia says.

Jack grins and goes around to the other side of the table. “But his best friend, the tickle king, does.”

We grab for her, and she squeals, laughter filling the room as we chase her around. Amelia goes in circles around the table and Jack and I crash into each other dramatically before falling to the floor as though we can’t get up.

She runs into her room, closes the door, and yells, “You can’t get me here! I put a potion on my door that won’t let you tickle.”

Jack chuckles. “What do we do?” he asks me.

“I don’t know. I guess we just have to tuck her in. But only if she opens the door.”

Amelia barely inches her door open enough for her little blue eye to see through the crack. “If you tickle me after you enter, then your hands will fall off.”

I widen my eyes and look to Jack. “That would be terrible.”

“It sure would,” he agrees. “It looks like we’ll have to behave.”

She opens the door another few inches. “Don’t lose your hands, you need them.”

I lift my palm. “I swear I won’t tickle.”

Amelia glances to Jack, who follows my vow. “I swear it too.”

The door pushes open. “Then I will disable the potion.”

I get Amelia ready for bed, which takes almost thirty minutes since she won’t stop talking to Jack about anything he’ll listen to. Once she’s settled, music and stars on, I head back out, rubbing the back of my neck.

“Everything okay?” he asks, holding a beer he helped himself to.

“Yeah, she should be passed out soon.”

I grab another slice of pizza and pop the top of my own beer as Jack finds the football game on television. “Carolina sucks this year.”

“Well, our defense sucks,” I say, sitting next to him on the couch.

“No shit.”

“So, about that rumor . . .” Jack says after a few minutes.

“I can only imagine.”

Mostly because I’ve heard it a few times. Thanks to my sister’s big mouth, the whole town is talking about Jessica and me.

“Is it true?” Jack asks.

“It’s mostly true. God only knows what embellishments have formed to make it sound worse.”