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“Not you,” Jimmy said. As if he wasn’t a pushover for her either.
“You got all the icing! Uncle Mike, you’re my favorite!”
Jimmy snorted. “Sure, bribe the kid with dessert.”
Maggie finished the cake in record time and used the back of her hand to wipe pastel-colored icing off her mouth, proceeding to smear it more. “Uncle Mike,” she said, facing him with curious eyes, “can I see your transformer?”
“Of course.” He scooted her back on his lap so he could lift his left pant leg, revealing his prosthetic, which always delighted his robot-obsessed niece.
She held up her arms, buzzing and beeping before tilting her head up, and he knew what she wanted before she even asked.
“Transformers roll out,” he said, picking her up by the waist to fly her above him as they both made zooming sounds until she lost it in a fit of giggles.
“You’re the coolest,” she said, patting his cheek after he settled her back on his lap.
Mike leaned back and raised his arms, locking his hands behind his head as he arched his brow at his brothers. “Out of the mouth of a babe. I am the coolest.”
“That’s not fair.” Jimmy pointed to his leg. “You have an advantage.”
Adam sucked in a breath, glaring at him like he had three heads, but Mike laughed it off. “Well, at least it’s good for something.”
5
By the time the sun had set and most of the party had died down with it, Sam grabbed her favorite threadbare Pitt sweatshirt and headed toward the Ewings’ backyard, where she knew the last ones standing would be.
The beer pong table was out, and Jimmy stopped her from having a seat with her dad and Mr. Ewing. “Play with us. We need one more.”
“No. You know I’m a lightweight.”
He waved a dismissive hand. “You don’t have to drink.”
“What do you mean, I don’thaveto drink? That’s the game,” she said.
“Come on. Mike needs a teammate.” He tugged on her wrist, and when she didn’t move, he tried a different tack, smoothing his hand around her waist, sweetly pulling her next to him.
“Where’s Adam?” she asked, pushing him off.
“They all went home. Girls’ bedtime.” Jimmy held up his hand, counting off the people with his fingers. “That leaves Mr. Zukowski, who’s reliving his glory days with our dads, you, or Nancy.”
“Nancy?”
Jimmy jerked his chin to where Mike stood with one hand in his pocket and the other around a red cup, while Nancy nearly humped his leg.
Sam winced. “I knew I didn’t like her.”
“She put away an entire bottle of Chardonnay already,” Jimmy said out of the corner of his mouth.
“All right. Fine. I’ll play.”
“Nice.” Jimmy pivoted around, pumping his fist in the air. “Sam’s in. Let’s go, Albie. Line ’em up!”
Mike stepped up to the table, pulling his arm out of Nancy’s grasp. She frowned but took the hint and headed in the direction of her house.
“You’re quite popular today,” Sam said, and Mike let out a tiny huff into his cup before he took a drink.
“Yeah. Thanks for saving me.”
“Anytime,” she said, and their gazes met then darted away like they were at a middle school dance. This was silly; she had to get a hold of herself. She was a confident, grown woman, not a prepubescent kid.
