My stomach drops six inches. Callahan's hand flexes on his glass so briefly that only someone watching for it would catch it.
"Nightshift," he says easily, with a quick glance at Rome before his eyes rest on his plate. "Long one. Ran late."
It's a clean lie, exactly the right amount of casual. No overselling, no unnecessary detail. I'm briefly impressed by how good he is at this, and then I remember he's been lying to Rome about his feelings for me for over a year. He's had practice.
I open my mouth to offer my own excuse, something about staying up reading, bad night's sleep, but Poppy gets there first.
"Lily was on a date last night," she says cheerfully, reaching for the bread basket, completely unaware that she's just detonated a bomb in the middle of the table.
"Dean Calloway. Remember him? He came into the shop last week."
"A date?" Beth perks up immediately.
Vera's head comes up. Gran leans forward like someone just turned on her favorite show.
"It was a late one, apparently," Poppy adds, tearing her bread, still oblivious.
I take a sip of wine and commit to the bit. "Sure. It was a late date."
Across the table, Callahan is studying his plate like the roast potatoes have become intellectually fascinating. I take another sip of wine to keep from smiling.
Rome holds up his hand. "I don't need details. If you're going to discuss your date, take it to the kitchen. I'm eating."
"You can practically molest Erin right in front of me without a thought," I scoff, "but I can't even mention my evening with a nice boy?"
"I do not molest her." Rome sets his fork down. "That is a grave exaggeration. So kindly keep your nice boy talk to yourself."
Erin leans forward. "I want to hear about it later, though. All of it. I need material for my books."
"Erin and her romances," Poppy tells the table, as if this is news to anyone.
"Erin writes very detailed romance," Gran corrects, swirling her wine. "I've read some things. There are scenes in there that taught me things I didn't know at my age, and I have lived, let me tell you."
"Mom, please," Beth begs.
"What? She's talented. The girl has an imagination."
Erin goes pink again, but she's smiling. Rome watches her with an expression that says he's fully aware of her imagination and has no complaints. I love all of them so much.
I'm also about to do something stupid. The tiredness and the wine and the secret are dissolving whatever impulse control I had left.
Callahan is still fixed on his plate.
"Sure, I'll share," I say to Erin, smiling so innocently itcould hang in a church. "If boys with dirty mouths and a little degradation streak is your thing."
There's a sharp, violent cough from across the table. A scrape of a chair. Ramsey's hand lands between Callahan's shoulder blades with enough force to rattle the glasses, and Callahan is bent forward with his fist against his mouth, eyes streaming, face red from coughing.
"Jesus, Cal." Ramsey sounds genuinely worried. "Breathe."
"I'm okay.” His voice is strained and half-choked and completely unconvincing.
Vera is already on her feet reaching for the water pitcher. Beth has her hand pressed to her chest. Gran is watching the whole thing with a sharp, interested gaze.
"Did it go down the wrong way?" Poppy leans across Ramsey, her face creased with concern. "Do you need the Heimlich? Ramsey knows the Heimlich."
"I'm fine." Callahan takes the water from Vera and drinks half of it in one go, his other hand flat on the table to steady himself. His eyes are still watering.
He does not look at me. I press my tongue against the inside of my cheek. My ribs are aching from the effort of keeping everything in.
