She went from suspicious to relaxed really quickly, almost relieved to finally have someone in her corner. With a hand cupped around her mouth, she said, “He’s gonna scream like a girl.”
“What are you two conspiring about over there?” Ethan asked, and Emma sat bolt upright in her chair, hands in her lap.
“Nothing.”
“None of your business.” Adrian settled back in his chair and gave me a thumbs up.
‘Thank you,’ I mouthed the words and Adrian being Adrian, mouthed back, ‘You owe me’.
Boats drifted lazily across the blue-gray water outside. Inside, the music from the band faded into the background as waiters floated out pushing carts laden with scrumptious food.
It should’ve felt like work — one of those social obligations the guys had to endure with polite smiles and firm handshakes — but instead, there was something easy about it. Normal. Ethan talked Will through the most impressive resumes around us, Adrian entertained Sadie with magic tricks that revolved exclusively around a spoon, and Emma occupied herself with an origami napkin practice session while we waited for the food to arrive.
I caught Miles’ eye, allowing myself some freedom to hold his gaze while everyone else was distracted. He sat next to me, and even though we were separated by significant elbow room, the pull toward him was challenging. Obviously fueled by yesterday’s lunch break back at Lumen HQ.
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he murmured, and my skin flushed hot.
“Same.”
Which was true. But it was also true that I couldn’t stop thinking about everything else at the very same time. He was in my head, along with Ethan and Adrian. So was Mrs. Alcott and the teaching job. Liv, and how seasonally sad she got over the holidays. Will’s crush. The way Sadie was creeping into my heartone random wild creature at a time. Emma, finding her place in it all.
Everything. All the time.
“Oh, good, I’m starving.” Adrian rubbed his hands together as plates made their way to the tables.
Lunch was served. Turkey, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, sweet yams… The table devolved into easy conversation amidst the clink of cutlery. It was just the right amount of noise, warmth, and people who were beginning to feel like family.
Until Emma’s voice cut through the laughter.
“No!”
Heads turned. She sat back in her chair, arms crossed, face puffed up with anger. Adrian touched her arm and whispered something, but she pulled back, eyes flashing.
“Hey, sweetie, what’s wrong?” I didn’t care about everyone looking; my first concern was Emma. But I felt my cheeks warm up all the same.
“I wanna go outside,” she said plainly, meeting my gaze with sheer stubbornness. “This place sucks. I don’t want to be here.”
“It’s almost time for dessert.” Ethan looked uncomfortable. “We’ll go soon, okay?”
But she was already pushing back her chair. The scrape echoed. Silverware rattled. Curiosity from onlookers intensified and with it, the sense of socially awkward embarrassment at our table.
“Emma,” I said again, trying to keep my voice calm, but she was spiraling fast. “Sit down, honey. Let’s—”
She threw her napkin into the air, and it landed in someone’s food at the next table over. The music faltered like a fancy needle scratch, and a surprised gasp floated above the expanding murmurs around us. Ethan immediately jumped up to apologizeto the woman, and I moved into action with Emma, crouching beside her chair.
“Please sit back down.” My voice was firmer this time. “If you continue behaving this way, then there’ll be no outside time after. No craft or TV time either.”
She grabbed a bread roll and launched it across the room. I held my breath as it rolled and bounced, to finally lose momentum and bump pathetically into the mayor’s shoe.
Nobody spoke anymore. The music stopped altogether.
“I’ll throw everything off this table,” Emma warned.
Ethan’s expression changed. The composed calm gave way to something hard and cold that he was barely holding back. A client at the next table whispered something to him, and I saw his jaw clench.
“Alright,” he said with the kind of voice that didn’t invite argument. “Maren, why don’t you take the kids home? It’s been a long day.”
I nodded, heart sinking. Around us, the glitter and polish of the event blurred into background noise. So much for Thanksgiving lunch with the mayor.
