Chapter Nine
Gabriel
The burgers were burning.
Not too badly, just enough to give them that charred edge that Fitz would inevitably complain about while eating three of them. I flipped them with more force than necessary, watching the flames lick up around the edges of the grill.
Behind me, Megan sat at the patio table, her cast propped up on a cushion, coloring her cast with a purple glitter marker, decisively informing me early this morning that her cast needed more bling and thus becoming obsessed with the project.
“They’re here!” she announced, as five car doors slammed in quick succession from the driveway.
Of course they were.
I’d made the mistake of mentioning Megan’s broken arm in the group chat, and within minutes, they’d invited themselves over for a “wellness check” that I knew was just an excuse to be nosy. Fitz had even offered to bring beer, which was his version of a sympathy card.
“Uncle Fitz!” Megan called out as the gate swung open.
Fitz appeared first, carrying a six-pack like a trophy, followed by Nathan clutching a bag of chips, Hayden bringing up the rear with what looked like a store-bought pie, and, because apparently the universe hated me, Julien and Quinton.
Julien carried a bottle of wine like a civilized human being, while Quinton carried what appeared to be a foam finger that said “#1 Dad” on it.
“There’s my favorite patient,” Fitz said, making a beeline for Megan. “Let me see that battle scar.”
“It’s a cast, silly,” Megan said seriously. “The scar comes later.”
“Smart kid,” Nathan said, ruffling her hair before turning to me. “How’s the invalid?”
“What’s an invalid?” Megan questioned.
“She’s fine,” I said, focusing very intently on the burgers. “Milking it for all it’s worth.”
“As she should,” Hayden said, settling into one of the patio chairs. “Broken bones definitely earn Ladybug a week of sympathy.”
Fitz grabbed a beer, cracked it open, and leaned against the deck railing with the casual posture of someone about to ruin my afternoon. “So,” he began, and I could hear the grin in his voice. “The nanny.”
Quinton waved the foam finger at Megan. “Got you a present, kiddo. For being brave.”
“That’s a sports thing,” Megan said, eyeing it skeptically.
“It’s a ‘you’re number one’thing,” Quinton corrected. “Very different.”
“It’s ridiculous,” Julien said, setting the wine on the patio table with the careful precision of someone who took beverages seriously. “I told him not to bring it.”
“And yet here we are,” Quinton said cheerfully. “Living our best foam-finger lives.”
I didn’t look up, replying to Fitz, “What about her?”
“Is she hot?”
There it was. The same question he’d asked at the office before she started, as if he’d been storing it up, waiting for the perfect moment for redeployment.
“She’s employed,” I said flatly. “That’s what matters.”
“That’s not an answer,” Nathan pointed out, stealing a chip from his own bag.
“It’s the only answer you’re getting.”
Megan looked up from her cast. “Cate’s pretty,” she offered helpfully. “She has really curly hair. Like,reallycurly. And she’s funny.”
