West was already seated at a corner booth, half-hidden behind a massive fiddle leaf fig. He stood when he saw her, and for a moment she just looked at him. There were a few shining silver threads in his brown hair now. When had that happened? He was only thirty-two. Their father had gone gray early too—always said it was a sign you'd picked the right woman.
He'd also gotten thinner in the face, which was weird because Brynn's cooking was significantly better than his bachelor-era rotation of protein shakes and takeout. Maybe it was the season. Maybe it was the baby stress. He looked older. More tired. More like a person with actual responsibilities instead of her idiot brother who'd once bet her fifty dollars he could eat a whole watermelon and then threw up in Mom's hydrangeas.
He pulled her into a hug that lasted three beats too long.
"You saw it," she said into his shoulder.
"I saw it."
"And you drove forty-five minutes to check on me."
"I was in the area."
"You're never in the area anymore. You live in Newton. This is the opposite of your area."
West released her, gesturing for her to sit. "Fine. Brynn sent me. She said, and I quote, 'your sister is spiraling and you're going to go make sure she eats real food.'"
"I'm not spiraling."
"You're eating croissants for dinner, aren't you."
"I had two croissants. That's a light snack, not a spiral."
West's mouth twitched. "Sure."
"Thank god Dad thinks TikTok is a communist data-harvesting operation and refuses to click links. If he'd seen it, he'd already be on his way over with a blood pressure cuff."
"Mom's been running interference. She told him it was a video of you accepting an award."
"An award for what?"
"She didn't specify. You know how he is—he heard 'Emmy' and 'award' and stopped asking questions."
They ordered. The server left. The silence that followed was too careful, too gentle. West was working up to something.
"Just say it," Emmy said.
"I'm not going to lecture you about Duke."
"Good. I've already had that lecture."
"From who? Dad?" West snorted. "What did he say, something about reading people's auras?"
"From Grant, actually. He tried to warn me about Duke before the whole—" She waved her hand vaguely. "Disaster."
"Wait." West frowned. "Grant was right there and he didn't stop it?"
"He was behind the ropes. It's not like he could've?—"
"Hang on." West was already pulling out his phone, swiping. "I want to see where he was standing."
"West, please don't?—"
But he was already watching, squinting at the screen. Emmy stared at her plate. She didn't need to see it again. She had every frame memorized.
West winced. "Jesus, Em. Your swing really is awful. You look like you're trying to hit a piñata."
"Thank you for that."
