"There." He jabbed at the screen. "Is that him? Behind the rope?"
Emmy didn't look. "Probably."
"That's definitely him. I recognize that stupid cap he always wears." West watched for another few seconds, then looked up, frowning. "If Grant wasright there, why didn't he step in? Stop it before you—" He gestured at the phone. "You know."
Emmy's fork scraped against her plate.
Because I told him not to. Because I said I wasn't a little girl who needed protecting. Because I walked away from him and straight toward the disaster he'd warned me about.
"It happened fast," she said. "And besides, what was he supposed to do? Run out and rescue me in front of everyone? People would've thought?—"
She stopped.
West waited. "Thought what?"
Emmy's face went hot. "Nothing. Just—it would've been a bigger scene. Two athletes getting into it at a charity event, you know how people are. They'd assume—" She was fumbling now, reaching for something that made sense. "You know how the tabloids love pairing you guys up with whatever woman you're standing next to. Grant didn't need that, and neither did I."
West's expression was pure confusion. "Pairing him up with—what, withyou?"
The way he said it. Like the concept was so foreign it didn't even register as a possibility. Like she'd suggested Grant might be paired with the champagne cart, or the flagpole.
"No, I just meant—forget it." Emmy stabbed at a cherry tomato. "The point is, he tried to warn me, I didn't listen, and here we are."
"Okay, but—" West was still frowning, still stuck on the thing she wanted him to move past. "Why would anyone think you and Grant were—that would be like—" He made a face. "That would be weird."
"I said forget it, West."
"No, I know, I'm just saying?—"
"Can we please talk about something else?"
West studied her for a moment. She could see him deciding whether to push—the same calculation he'd been doing since they were kids, weighing his curiosity against her temper.
He picked up his burger.
"Fine. But you know I'm right about Duke. Guy's always been?—"
"West."
"Okay, okay." He took a massive bite, talking around it. "Different topic. Ultrasound."
Emmy seized the subject change like a life raft. "How was it? Tell me everything."
West's whole face changed. It was like watching a light come on—everything softened, opened up, went embarrassingly gooey. She'd never seen her brother look like that before Brynn. Now it was his default setting.
"It was..." He shook his head, lost for words. "You could see the heartbeat. This tiny flicker. Like a little pulse of light." He pulled out his phone again, scrolling past the video that Emmy was grateful to see disappear. "Here—Brynn said I could show you?—"
He turned the screen toward her. Gray and white static, the familiar blob shape of early ultrasounds. And there, in the center, a small rhythmic flutter.
Emmy's throat went tight.
"That's a person," she said. "That's an actual person in there."
"I know." West's voice was rough. "Wild, right? In like six months that's going to be a whole human who calls me Dad. I'm going to be responsible for keeping it alive."
"You can barely keep plants alive."
"I know! That's what I told Brynn! She said babies are more resilient than ferns, which, honestly, is a low bar."
