Brynn smacked his arm. "Because hitting on girls at bars yields great results."
"Hey, it worked on you."
"I felt sorry for you. And then you wouldn't go away."
West clutched his chest in mock offense. Brynn ignored him, turning to Emmy. "I think it's a great idea. What adult has time to weed through organic dates these days? If you can afford a dating service, why not use one?"
Emmy shot her a grateful look. "Exactly. It's not about being desperate—it's about being efficient."
"So what's next for the matchmaking empire?" West asked. "Any big events coming up?"
"Actually, yes. I'm going to the Fairway for Kids tournament next Thursday. Elite Connections is sponsoring a hole, and I'll be networking with potential clients."
Grant's hand stilled on his water glass.
"The golf tournament?" he asked.
"Mm-hm. At Brookline Country Club. Should be a good opportunity to?—"
"I'm playing in that."
Emmy blinked. "You are?"
"Every year. Me and a few guys from the team." Grant set his fork down. "West usually plays, but?—"
"West isn't going this year," Brynn said.
West looked up from his chicken. "I'm not?" Brynn gave him a look. "Oh—right. Yeah. I'm not. I have somewhere to be?"
Emmy narrowed her eyes. West was many things, but a convincing liar wasn't one of them. "What's going on with you two?"
"Nothing." West shoved more bread in his mouth. "Just busy."
"You're the worst liar I've ever met."
"I'm not lying. I'm just—" He looked at Brynn, helpless. "Can we tell them?"
Brynn set down her fork, a smile spreading across her face. "We were going to wait until dessert, but—" She reached for West's hand. "I'm pregnant."
The table erupted.
Dad stood up so fast his chair scraped against the floor. "How far along? Have you seen a specialist? The prenatal vitamin market is a minefield, Brynn, you need to be very careful about folic acid content?—"
"John, let her finish," Mom said, though she was already dabbing at her eyes with her napkin. "A baby. Oh, West. Ababy."
“Eleven weeks," Brynn said, laughing as Dad started listing questions. "Yes, we have a doctor. Yes, I'm taking vitamins. The appointment next Thursday is the first ultrasound."
West was grinning so hard it had to hurt the bruise on his cheekbone. "We wanted to tell everyone together. In person."
Emmy was out of her chair before she knew she was moving, pulling West into a hug and then Brynn, her eyes stinging. "I'm going to be an aunt."
"You're going to be an aunt," Brynn confirmed, squeezing her tight.
When Emmy sat back down, the table had dissolved into happy chaos—Dad grilling Brynn about her OB-GYN's credentials, Mom murmuring something about Tudor christening traditions, Serle quietly bringing out a bottle of sparkling cider she must have had waiting.
Emmy looked across the table at Grant.
He was watching the scene with his jaw slightly loose, eyes warm but not all the way. She'd seen that face once before—at West's wedding, during the toast. The same careful happiness of a man standing at the edge of someone else's life and knowing exactly how far inside he'd ever get.
