“You gotta try these.” Ben slapped my back as a server stopped beside us with a tray of appetizers that looked like mini muffins. “Grace loves artichokes and they made this special for her. No fish,” he added.
I tried to remember the last time I’d eaten real food, but when all I could come up with was protein shakes, I reached for an artichoke muffin. It wasn’t bad, so I grabbed another two before the server left.
A little girl—the one Emme was with earlier—skipped over to Noah’s side. She handed him a loaded plate and hoisted a small cocktail skewer in the shape of a sword, saying, “You promised there’d be carrots but there’s not and this shit is gross, Noah.”
I swallowed a laugh at that, but I seemed to be the only one reacting to the mouth on this child. Ben leaned in, saying under his breath, “You’ll get used to it.”
Noah scowled down at the plate. Everything had one bite taken out of it. “Sorry about that. I assumed there would beveggies,” he said. “Want me to see if they can make some chicken fingers?”
“Fuck yeah,” she replied, jabbing her cocktail sword in the air before turning her attention to me. “Who are you?”
“Gennie, come on.” Noah shook his head. “We talked about using our manners tonight, didn’t we?”
The look she gave him seemed to sayThese are my manners.
“Gennie, this is Ryan,” Noah said. “He’s Aunt Emme’s husband.”
“Hi.” I shifted the napkin filled with artichoke bites to my other hand with my beer, and went in for the shake, but then thought better of it and waved. Kids didn’t want to shake hands. “Nice to meet you, Gennie.”
“Am I supposed to call you Uncle Ryan?” she asked.
“Um”—I shot a glance at Noah, but his only assistance was a shrug—“if you want?”
She eyed me up and down, her tiny sword pinched between two fingers and aimed at me. I felt like I was back at the scouting combine before draft day. “Nah, I don’t think so.”
“Okay, then,” I called as she trotted away.
“She must like you,” Ben said, bumping me with his elbow. “She usually tells me to prepare to walk the plank.”
Since I didn’t have the mental capacity to explore any of that, I went back to the artichoke bites. I figured we had another hour or two here and then Emme would probably keep herself busy with Grace for a bit. I’d wait all night to talk to her. All weekend, if that was what it took because?—
“What’s in this?” I asked, my mouth full.
“It’s artichoke and something else. Leeks, maybe,” Ben said. “Grace loves them. She makes this hot dip and?—”
“It’s oyster. There’s oyster mixed in with the artichoke,” I said as I scanned the deck for the server. My stomach dropped asI saw him a few paces from Emme and an artichoke bite sitting on a napkin in her palm.“Shit.”
“Fuuuuuuck.Grace is gonna kill me. Goddammit, Linda.” Ben plucked the beer bottle from my hand and issued another hard slap to my back. This guy was a high school football coach waiting to happen. “Go!”
The world condensed down to a series of routes across the deck to get to Emme. I took off, twisting between guests, leaping from a chair to a tabletop to another table, and then hitting the floor at a sprint. Everyone around me seemed to move in slow motion. The only sound was the rush of my heartbeat in my ears.
I watched Emme pick up the artichoke bite as I charged toward her. My only goal was getting it away from her. I had no plan for how I’d accomplish that or what I’d do with all the speed I’d built up as I bolted across the deck. I knew all of these things would become serious problems in a matter of seconds, but all I could do was bellow, “No!”
I slapped her hand away from her face and wrapped my arms around her torso as we collided. Tumbling to the deck floor, I held her tight, my back taking the brunt of the impact. No QB liked getting sacked, but at least we did it on turf. This was murder.
“Oysters,” I gasped out, “in the artichoke bite.”
“Now that’s how they do it in the pros!” Ben shouted.
Emme pushed off my chest and I saw blood streaking down her face.Oh, fuck.Everyone else saw it too because the stunned quiet that’d surrounded us now burst into panicked cries and the rumble of people pressing in around us.
“Let’s give them some room to breathe,” Ben called, pushing the crowd back. “No reason for concern. Everything’s in order. My good buddy Ryan was just making sure Emme didn’t have an allergic reaction. Nothing to see here, folks. Back it up.”
“Oh, god. I’m so sorry, Muggsy. Come here, baby, let me see.” I cupped her chin and tipped her head back. Yep, that was one hell of a bloody nose. “Awww fuck, I’m sorry. Does it hurt?”
She stared at me, her eyes wide, a little shocked. “What—what the hell was that?”
I gathered her close to me, skimming my hands over her head, her arms, everywhere. “There were oysters in the artichoke muffins,” I said again, yanking my shirt free and mopping up her face. It was clotting quickly, which meant it only took five full years off my life instead of ten. “You almost ate one. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bust your nose or whatever the fuck else I did.”
