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fudge.
    He gets coffee ice cream.
    We sit down.
    I mush up my ice cream and wait for the answers.
    Chocolate chip mint and vanilla fudge mushed together looks pretty gross.
    Max starts. “I’ve never been married. I don’t have any kids. My niece, my sister’s daughter, Jade, and I are very close. Jade’s father left before she was born, so I’ve been like a father to her. She’s six.”
    “My dad would never do anything like that,” I say.
    Max looks at me and nods. “I know. Your mom has told me how much he loves you.”

    “He does,” I say, and then ask, “Do you want to marry my mom?”
    Max looks at me. “Amber, your mother and I have only been dating since this summer . . . a few months. We’re not talking about getting married . . . but when WE do talk about it, I’m sure that your mother will talk to you.”
    “You said WHEN, not IF.” I let my ice cream drip down my chin.
    He looks surprised. “I guess I did . . . . . That’s very interesting.”
    “My dad will be back soon,” I remind him.
    “Your mother said that he was going to try to move back. But Amber, I think you should talk to your mother about this . . . . . . about whether or not they’re going to get back together.”
    I stand up. “We better go shopping now.”
    He stands up too, picks up a napkin, andwipes the dripping ice cream off my face.
    “Are you being nice to me because you want me to like you?” I ask.
    “I’m being nice to you because I’m basically nice.” He grins. “And, yes, I do want you to like me. But I’m not going to like it if you do stuff to try to mess things up between your mother and me . . . . but I will try to understand . . . . and to remember how rotten I was to the man who eventually became my stepfather.”
    Stepfather. I don’t like that word.
    “Would you tell me some of the things that you did to him?” I want to know because that information might be useful someday.
    He laughs. “Not on your life . . . . Why should I tell you? So that you can use them on me? Do you think I’m nuts?”
    I just smile at him.
    “Don’t answer that.” He smiles back.
    “You can tell me. Come on. I thoughtyou said you’re a nice guy. It would be nice to tell me.”
    “I’m not that nice.” He shakes his head.
    One of these days, I’m going to get him to tell me . . . . and then I’m going to do the same thing to him . . . . . whatever it was . . . . I don’t want to make all of this too easy for Max.
    I’m beginning to like him . . . but I don’t want to like him too much . . . . After all, what if he decides to stick around . . . or what if I like him a lot and then he decides to leave?
    We get into the car, go to the supermarket, and get a cart.
    The shopping begins.
    We play supermarket basketball, lobbing all of the ingredients, except for the eggs and oil, into the cart. We get more points the farther we throw the items.
    We also get strange looks from some of the other shoppers.

    Then we play Guess the Weight.
    Max picks up an item. Then he hands it to me and we both guess how much it weighs.
    Then he takes it over to the fruit-weighing machine and we see who wins.

    I’m ahead, fifteen to seven.
    “Two points!” I yell as I throw a bag of marshmallows into the cart.
    Max pretends to guard it, but it goes in.
    There’s loud cheering. It’s the Nicholson brothers, Danny, Ryan, and Kyle. Danny, who’s in third grade, gives Max a high five and says to me, “Amber, your dad is so much fun. . . . . .”
    Max smiles.
    I yell, “He’s not my dad!” Danny looks really surprised that I yelled like that.
    Max looks sad.
    I look at both of them and then I say to Danny, “He’s my mother’s friend.”
    And then I add, “And he’s my friend too.”
    Max looks happy again.
    And I feel good that I’ve said that he’s my friend.
    I also feel a little guilty.
    I’m not sure that my father would like it if he knew about