That'd be the Chinese, John thought to himself. He fumbled in his wallet for the cash, counting out with his head down as he opened the door.
It was Sam.
Seeing the boy in flesh and blood, he put a hand over his mouth. God, he looked old. Life had aged him, and John dropped the money as he pulled his son into a hug. He squeezed tightly, feeling the muscles and fitness that he had developed. "You need a haircut," he choked out, ruffling his fingers through the back off Sam's hair. "Get on in here."
It was difficult to let him go long enough to enter, but the arrival of the delivery boy made it happen. "There's a six-pack in the fridge, and water too. Haven't gone shopping yet, just grabbed a couple things at the store around the corner." Picking up the dropped money, he carried the box into the kitchen.
He laid out enough food for half a dozen people; moo goo gai pan, eight delicious chicken, sweet and sour shrimp. Fried rice, steamed wontons, egg drop soup, beef and broccoli. Lo mein, crab Rangoon, shrimp toast.