Leaning close, he pitched his voice so she could hear him above the pizza parlor’s jukebox and rowdy teens. “In this one,” he said, his tone holding a mixture of wonder and pride, “Ernesto’s watching his first football game with me.” Toni smiled at the four-month-old baby propped against Angel’s burly torso in a living room stuffed with mismatched furniture. The child had a surprisingly thick mop of dark hair and wore a jumpsuit with the insignia of Angel’s favorite team. “He’s beautiful,” she murmured. Angel beamed. Robbie downed his Bud and burped. “Ain’t no way I’m ever getting a girl pregnant and letting her take my kid, then have her screw me for child support when I can’t even live with him.” “Sometimes things happen,” Angel said gently, “stuff you can’t predict.” Robbie snorted. “That’s why they invented condoms.” “Even if you use them, they don’t always work,” Toni explained, hoping to get Robbie to back off. Before he could think of another verbal jab, she picked up Ernesto’s picture taken at Easter.
