“They wouldn’t miss this, no matter their Christ-related objections,” Mark said.
“That’s sweet,” Nathan said.
A layer of residual sweat dampened Liam’s palm. “You sure you’re all good?”
Nathan nodded and smiled. It did nothing to reassure him.
They pushed open the heavy wood doors, which led to a grand lobby with plush red carpeting and a chandelier hanging above them. Franny could’ve been debuting on Broadway for all Liam knew.
Mark handed their tickets to the usher who directed them to prime seats in the center section. Liam could’ve found them on his own thanks to Pastor Fry’s white shock of hair sticking up like a beacon.
“You know what.” Nathan said, gripping Liam’s arm before he could enter the theater and nearly cutting off circulation. “I’m going to purchase a drink—Coke. And maybe some candy, too. I need some kind of sweet snack. It’s a British tradition, eating candy before a show. It’s for good luck.”
“Oh. I didn’t know that,” Mark said.
“I’ve never heard of that,” Liam said, another alarm going off in his head.
“It’s a new tradition. Meghan Markle started it.”
“I’ll take M&M’s,” Walt said.
“Great choice,” Nathan said. “Mark?”
“Um…I’ll take a Sprite, I suppose.”
“Smashing. And you?” Nathan squeezed Liam’s hand.
Liam stared at Nathan, trying to figure out what he was doing with this inane request. He was always figuring things out with Nathan, like he was a puzzle that kept coming up with new pieces.
“Nathan, what’s going on? Why do you seem nervous?”
“I’m not.”
The lie was all over Nathan’s face, but before he could ask another question, Nathan interjected.
“I’ll get you M&M’s, too.” He leaned in close to Liam’s face and smirked. “I’m just craving some sugar to sublimate my urge to tear your clothes off. I’ll be right back.”
Nathan dashed to the concessions line. Liam joined his brother and nephew in taking their seats next to Pastor Fry and Brenda. He strummed his fingers on the chair’s arm, tapping his fingernail against the strip of metal with the seat number.
Five minutes later, Nathan was still in line. Supposedly.
Liam got up to check on him. Maybe he needed help carrying snacks back. Maybe something was really wrong. The suspicion clouding his mind turned to worry.
He zoomed down the aisle and out into the lobby. There was no sign of Nathan at the concession line.
Instead, there was Callum.
“Gidday, Piglet. How ya going?”
Callum motioned for his wife Claudette, a woman fond of plastic surgery andReal Housewivesshows, to enter the theater. James, Oliver, and their families were getting their tickets scanned at the main entrance, but the brothers locked eyes on Liam like animals in the hunt.
“It’s great you’re all supporting Franny,” Liam said.
“We wouldn’t miss our niece’s acting debut for the world,” Callum said.
James and Oliver joined their circle. They put on their best smiles, yet the greed in their eyes could be seen from space.
“We’ve been waiting to hear from you,” James said.
