“That’s me.”
“I’ve seen you play at the Friday night scrimmages. You’re really good.”
“Thanks.”
Renthrow grunts. “What about me? AmIreally good?”
My eyes nearly pop out of my face when I hear his petulant tone.
“Yes, babe.” The woman pinches both his cheeks and smushes his face. “You’re the best.”
Renthrow nods as if all is right in his world now.
“Nat, this is Cordelia, my neighbor.” Riley glances between Renthrow and Cordelia. “And is this… your boyfriend?”
“Yes, this is Viking Renthrow and that adorable little girl on top of the slide is Gordie.”
I look that way and notice Renthrow’s seven-year-old daughter waving at us and laughing with glee as she skids down the slide.
“She’sadorable,” Riley coos.
“And smart and thoughtful and sweet,” Cordelia boasts.
Renthrow grins proudly and it’s clear he feels the same. If the man puffs his chest out anymore, he won’t be able to fit around the table.
“She’s going to represent her entire school at a Children In S.T.E.M. conference next month,” Cordelia informs us.
“Wow,” I say.
“Sometimes, I think back to what I was like at seven and the difference is astounding. I wasnotthat accomplished.”
“What was I doing at seven?” Riley chomps on her ice cream and looks up at the sky. “I can’t even remember.”
I stretch my arm along the back of her chair. “You were running all over the place, being a menace.”
“I wasnot.” Riley turns her nose up at me. “Don’t listen to him. He was negatively influenced by my older brother and his memory cannot be trusted.”
“Are you two related?” Cordelia asks, glancing between us.
“We’re like siblings,” Riley answers easily.
I stare at her, bothered by how comfortable she is admitting that even though it’s something I’ve been telling myself for a while now.
I clarify to the table. “Not by blood. I’m best friends with her brother.”
“Oh.” Cordelia eyes my arm that’s hanging over Riley’s chair.
I withdraw my hand and focus on eating my ice cream that has become a never-ending source of dripping cheesecake juice. I should have gotten mine in a cup.
“Here,” Riley says, patting around my hand with a napkin. “You’re still such a messy eater, Nat.”
“If this was cookie dough, it would have been gone in three chomps.”
Her eyes narrow. “Oh, so you’re blaming me now?”
“I’m just saying. If it’s not broken…”
“Fine. Next time, I’ll leave you to your salmonella cup.”
