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I dove back into my steak, pretended not to notice the flash of hurt on his face. Refused to consider if he’d been telling the truth.
He leaned back in his chair and sighed. “What’s something you’re good with?”
My fork dangled from my fingers. I opened my mouth, then closed it before I said something I couldn’t take back.
“Anything?” he prompted.
“I like how supportive you’re being. I didn’t expect that.”
“You thought I’d just leave you?” His face turned red.
“I didn’t think about it really. But who wants to be saddled with a child with me? I’m no picnic.”
“I can’t stand picnics.”
My heart reached out and clung to that with fierce possession.
“One on the beach would be nice.”
“Please. All that sand blowing everywhere. We’d eat more of that than the food.” He tilted his head. “But for you, I’d do it.”
“Why?”
“I find I like the unpredictability that is Marlow Linley.”
I kicked at his shin under the table. “Shut up.”
“Tell me something else good.”
“I can eat as much as I want.”
“You already did that.”
“How do you know?”
“We’ve had meals together before recently. That cookout once at your place. You ate two hamburgers and not the mini type.”
“You mean sliders?”
He waved his hand in the air. “Whatever.” I tossed a piece of asparagus at him. He batted it away, and Blake decided to follow my lead and throw an apple chunk. “You’re ganging up on me. And for the record, I was impressed.”
Blake threw another apple. Patrick picked it up and chunked it at me. It bounced off my forehead.
“Did you just throw food at me?”
“You started it.”
“I’m going to finish it.”
Croutons, grape tomatoes, and potato planks flew. I popped up from my seat and shielded my face as he and Blake pelted me.
“You’re ganging up on me,” I shrieked.
Patrick caught me by the waist and smashed a potato in my hair. Blake squealed with delight when I squished a tomato on Patrick’s nose.
“You play dirty.”
“I play to win.”
