“Yeah,” I agreed, accepting the glass. “She is.”
“Speaking of something else,” I nodded toward where Scott was now regaling Mia with what appeared to be an extremely animated story, complete with wild hand gestures, “should I be worried that James’ brother is sharing what looks suspiciously like blackmail material?”
Matt’s lips quirked. “Probably. Scott has dirt on everyone.”
“Everyone?”
“Everyone.” He paused. “Though I noticed he’s surprisingly quiet about that incident in Singapore.”
“What incident in Singapore?”
“The one that had James bailing him out of?—”
“Matt.” Scott appeared between us like a particularly well-dressed ninja. “What happens in Singapore stays in Singapore. We had an agreement.”
“Did we?” Matt’s innocent expression wouldn’t have fooled a blind man.
Before Scott could retort, Savannah’s laugh rang out across the room. William had finally abandoned his cool facade and was now helping Aria arrange her new plushies in what looked like a complex battle formation.
“I’m documenting this for posterity,” Eric announced, phone already out. “The great William Bosworth, defeated by Pokémon.”
“They’re not Pokémon,” Aria corrected with all the gravity a five-year-old could muster. “They’re Yokai. Right, Uncle Will?”
“Absolutely right, princess.” William shot Eric a smug look. “At least someone in this family has culture.”
“Says the man who thought wasabi was guacamole at that Japanese restaurant,” Scott muttered.
“That was one time!”
“One very memorable time,” James added, earning himself a glare from William.
Liam Maxwell watched the exchange with barely concealed amusement, settled in an armchair like a king holding court. Aria had migrated to his lap, explaining the intricate hierarchy of her new Yokai collection with scholarly precision.
“And this one”—she held up what looked like a blue fox-spirit—”is the guardian of the others. Like how Daddy and Uncle Matt and everyone protects us!”
The room softened at her words. Even Matt’s perpetual storm-cloud expression lightened.
“Very appropriate,” Liam agreed, his stern features gentling as he looked at his granddaughter. Then his eyes found mine. “Though I hear you’re quite capable of handling protection duties yourself, Andy.”
I nearly choked on my drink. Was Liam Maxwell… complimenting me?
Matt’s hand found the small of my back, steadying me as I recovered from my near-death-by-expensive-mocktail experience.
“Speaking of seeing things,” Eric smoothly chimed in, “has anyone seen the dessert cart? James ordered this incredible chocolate lava cake that you have to try.”
“The one with the gold leaf?” Aria perked up, previous topic forgotten. “Can I have some, Daddy?”
“After you eat your dinner,” James replied automatically, then paused. “Have you even had dinner?”
“Define dinner,” his daughter replied with impressive diplomacy.
“I taught her that,” Scott said proudly.
“We know,” chorused at least three voices.
The dessert cart appeared like a sugary miracle, wheeled in by staff who’d clearly mastered the art of perfect timing. The spread was ridiculous—everything from delicate French pastries to what looked like an architectural masterpiece made of chocolate.
“If this is how you people eat normally,” I commented, eyeing a particularly deadly-looking chocolate creation, “I’m amazed you all still fit through doors.”
