He goes still for exactly one second. Then makes a sound that is almost a laugh, pressed down. “I know about the group chat.”
“Sophie showed me the GIF.”
“Soph has a big mouth.”
“Is it inaccurate?”
He turns his head and looks at me. In the firelight his eyes are warm emeralds and direct. “No,” he says. “It’s not inaccurate.”
My blanket is extremely useful right now. I cinch it more securely. “Piper said you showed up for the sink.”
“She needed help.”
“At three in themorning.”
“Pipes don’t wait for business hours.” He tips his head back against the chair. “She’s family. Family doesn’t have hours.”
The fire pops again. The embers are orange and red and warm against the dark yard. Chicago in October is holding onto the last of its warmth for tonight, cold pressing at the edges of the light.
“Why did you come tonight?” I ask. “Chuck E. Cheese.”
“Chase needed backup. Christopher, at three years old, possesses grenade-like energy and dictator-like purpose. Knox bailed last minute, so Chase called me.” He pauses. “I would like you to know that I played forty-five minutes of Skee-Ball so that a three-year-old could win a rubber bracelet with superstar on it.”
“Did he?”
“He won three, SUPERSTAR, GLOW POWER, WINNER. He gave me one.” He holds up his right hand. On his wrist, incongruous and perfect, is a small rubber bracelet with SUPERSTAR printed on it. “I’m wearing it.”
I stare at the bracelet holding back my grin by smashing my lips together. “You’re wearing the bracelet,” I say.
“Christopher gave it to me. Said, ‘You get powers now.’ You don’t refuse a gift from a three-year-old.” His voice is matter-of-fact, as if this is obvious, and it is, and that is the problem. “It’s basic etiquette.”
“Right,” I say.
“Toni.”
“Max.”
“You’re staring at my gift.”
“I’m staring at the fire.”
“You’re staring at my bracelet, and you’re three glasses of wine into an evening where you’ve apparently spent four hours being told nice things about me by women who like you, and—“ he pauses, “your face is doing the thing.”
“What thing?” I say, for the second time tonight.
He doesn’t answer right away. He watches me. The firelight catches his face in a way that is not helping. Four glasses of wine and a dying fire and I am in significant trouble. “The thing where Toni goes away,” he clears his throat lightly, “and Antonia comes back.”
The words land right into my heart. “That’s not?—”
“You’re wearing a green dress, which seems formal for a girls’ night at home.”
“Elena picked it.”
“You could’ve changed it.” He tilts his head. “Did you know I’d be here?”
“I knew you might be.” My buzz is not helping. “It’s your sister’s house.”
“Mm-hm.”
