She expected Gator to give the same gruff non-answers he gave everyone. The polite walls that kept people at a comfortable distance.
Instead, she watched a small miracle happen.
Gator stopped what he was doing. Set down the glass he was drying. And actually looked at Claire, really looked at her, the way you look at someone who's asked a question that deserves an answer.
He said words Emily couldn't hear. Claire nodded. He continued, longer this time, and Claire's expression softened.
They talked for almost ten minutes. Gator leaning against the back bar, Claire perched on her stool, a conversation that looked nothing like small talk. At one point, Gator actually laughed —a short, rough sound that made Tommy stop mid-sentence and turn around.
"What the hell," Tommy said, staring.
"What?" Emily asked.
"Gator doesn't laugh. Not like that. Not with people he just met." Tommy shook his head. "Your friend's got some kind of magic."
When Claire came back to the booth, her eyes were bright with a feeling Emily couldn't name.
"What did you two talk about?" Emily asked.
"Stories." Claire slid back into her seat. "He told me about the first time he saw Jake, during selection. How he knew right away Jake was going to be special."
"Gator told you that?"
"Is that strange?"
Tommy leaned forward. "Claire, I've been trying to get Gator to tell me stories about Jake for fifteen years. He doesn't talk about that stuff. Not with anyone."
Claire shrugged, but there was a small smile playing at her lips. "Maybe he just needed someone to ask the right way."
Emily looked at her friend, then at Gator behind the bar. He was back to his usual rhythm — efficient, watchful, unrevealing. But when his eyes swept the room and landed on their booth, it lingered on Claire for just a second longer than necessary.
"Interesting," Emily said.
"What?"
"Nothing. Just... interesting."
Jake's arm landed along the back of the booth behind her, not quite touching her shoulders but present. A claim so subtle she might have imagined it.
Except she didn't imagine the way Gator looked at them when he brought the second round. Or the way Tommy's story trailed off when Jake leaned close to whisper in her ear. Orthe way Ray, back from his call, watched the two of them with approval.
They were being seen. Being assessed. The family deciding what to make of this woman who'd appeared in Jake's life and refused to leave.
Emily found she didn't mind.
The night wore on. More stories, more drinks, more of the easy warmth that came from people who genuinely enjoyed each other's company. Claire and Tommy had developed their own rhythm of banter. Ray kept the conversation from veering too far into chaos. Jake was a consistent presence beside her, occasionally joining the conversation but mostly just being there. Being with her.
At some point, Claire announced she needed the restroom. Emily stood to join her — the universal signal — and paused beside Jake.
"Want another Dos Equis?"
"Please."
She leaned down without thinking, pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. "Be right back."
It wasn't until they were halfway across the bar that Claire grabbed her arm.
"Oh my God."
