My mom snorts, and my dads cheeks turn pink. Serves him right.
“Right. Linc, how was work today?” my dad stammers.
The conversation at the table continues, but I’m still looking at Ivy, making sure she really is okay. She’s looking down at her plate, pushing her food around with her fork. Sophie gets her attention by tossing a piece of roll at her. Ivy looks up, sees Sophie’s concerned expression, and flicks her hand in the air and mouths “I’m fine” with a dramatic roll of her eyes.
Sophie seems content with her answer, and tunes in to Lincoln's story about the lost hiker they found today. I’m not so easily convinced.
“Hey,” I whisper over Delilah’s head, who’s asking Lincoln a million questions about his story. Mainly ending in “But why?”
Ivy side-eyes me. “I’m fine, Wes,” she grumbles, obviously over everyone treating her like porcelain.
Wes.
I force myself to ignore the sharp pain in my ribs, and carry on.
“That’s great,” I say, deadpan.
She finally looks at me, her brows knitted together.
I point to the side of my mouth. “You’ve got something right here,” I tell her, smirking.
Her mouth drops open in a mock gasp.
“Jerk,” she murmurs back to me, smiling now.
A real smile.
Mission accomplished.
————
After dinner, everyone is out on the back deck watching the sun set. My parents have a huge space back here, with plenty of patio furniture, umbrellas, and tables to entertain. The solar, string lights kick on as the sunlight fades, bringing that homey feeling I always get when we gather out here. It’s warm, and the summer breeze kicks up just a bit, blowing Ivy’s dark wavy locks around like a damn goddess.
We’re gathered around the patio table, and I sip my beer, leaning back in my chair as I watch Delilah and Ivy play in the grass.
“They’re really cute,” Sophie sing-songs from my side.
I nod, and take a long pull of my drink. “I am very aware,” I reply dryly, not taking my eyes off them.
“It’s almost like… you should do something about it,” Sophie snarks.
“It’s all I think about,” I mutter.
Sophie gasps, and punches my shoulder in excitement. Beer sloshes out of the bottle from her jostling my arm.
“Jesus, Soph. What the hell?” I ask, wiping beer from my lap.
“Oh, god. Sorry. I just got excited.” She giggles. “So when are you going to make your move?”
“When are you going to make yours?” I reply, turning to look at her.
Sophie straightens. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I continue to stare at her expectantly.
“Shut up, okay? He probably doesn’t remember. It was like a hundred years ago. Plus, he doesn’t date. You heard him,” she hisses.
“Sophie, every guy remembers every woman he’s had sex with. Regardless of how long ago,” I reply quietly.
