Mary ignored her, settling into her chair while still scrolling.
"This is my sister Mary," Libby said to Liam. "Mary, this is Liam."
Mary didn't look up.
Kitty slid into her chair with a bright smile. "Hello! I'm Kitty."
"Mary's working on her master's thesis," Robert explained. "Statistical modeling of social phenomena. Kitty's finishing up at Westfield State."
"Go Owls!" Kitty chirped.
"It's more complex than that," Mary muttered, still not looking up from her screen.
"Did you know," Mary continued, settling into her chair, "that the tomatoes in most commercial pasta sauces contain an average of fourteen different pesticide residues? I researched it for my podcast, 'Statistically Speaking: When Numbers RuinYour Day.' The episode on food contamination in sports venues got thirty-seven downloads. That's nearly triple my average."
"Congratulations, Mary," Jane said warmly.
Under the table, Libby felt Liam's knee press against hers. Neither of them moved away. The contact was barely anything, completely deniable, and yet her entire focus narrowed to that point of connection.
"So Liam," Linda began the interrogation while aggressively serving lasagna, "tell us about your family. Your sister Georgia is a figure skater, isn't she? So accomplished!"
Libby felt Liam tense slightly beside her.
"She was," he said carefully. "She's taking a break from competition."
"Oh, that's a shame. Such a talented family! Your father must be so proud of both of you."
Liam made a noncommittal noise that could have meant anything.
"Speaking of expectations," Middleton interjected, leaning forward with a gleam in his eye, "I heard there was some controversy about the Matthews trade. Something about management interference?"
The temperature seemed to drop. Under the table, Libby shifted her knee more firmly against Liam's in silent support.
"Team decisions are complex," Liam said evenly. "Multiple factors go into any trade."
"Yes, but when family ownership gets involved—" Middleton pressed, leaning in further. "Come now, we're all friends here. Surely you can share what really happened?"
"More wine?" Robert interrupted smoothly, reaching for the bottle. "Calvin, you were telling us about your ESPN connections?"
"Oh yes!" Middleton launched into what was clearly a well-rehearsed speech about his importance in the broadcastingworld. "Just yesterday, I was discussing with network executives—they're very impressed with my analysis?—"
"Didn't Marcie Hartman from WCBN file a restraining order against you?" Mary asked, looking up from her tablet. "I have the court records in my database. Filed March 15th, granted March 22nd."
"That was a misunderstanding!" Middleton said quickly, his face reddening. "A clerical error!"
"Oh my god, wait," Kitty appeared, leaning over Mary's shoulder to read the screen. "It literally says 'persistent unwanted contact' and—no way—'delusional professional claims.'" She looked around the table with wide eyes and a delighted gasp, like she'd just discovered the juiciest gossip.
Jane kicked Kitty under the table, but the damage was done. Middleton had turned an alarming shade of purple.
"Perhaps we should discuss something else," Robert suggested, though Libby caught the amused glint in his eye. "Libby's recent analysis pieces have been getting quite a bit of attention."
Middleton's smile turned knowing. "Ah yes, those analytical pieces. Very... insightful." He glanced at Liam with a conspiratorial tilt of his head. "I suppose having certain connections provides unique access to inside information. Pillow talk can be quite valuable in journalism."
The table went silent. Libby felt her face burn with rage.
"My analysis is based on publicly available statistics and game footage," she said, her voice dangerously quiet. "Not 'pillow talk.'"
"Of course, of course," Middleton said dismissively. He leaned closer, placing his hand on hers with what she assumed he thought was reassuring warmth. "I didn't mean to imply—you've always had so much promise as a journalist. In fact, I think you should consider a new direction. When 'Middleton'sMiddle Ice' goes syndicate, I'll need a co-host. You'll need somewhere to go when this..." he looked between her and Liam, "arrangement fizzles out. Together we could build something more... legitimate."
