Every few minutes, the bird leaned down and inspected the board, then offered commentary.
“BAD MOVE.”
Bobbi ignored him. “I’m thinking,” she said.
“You’ve been thinking for a long time,” I said.
“I’m strategizing.”
“You moved one sheep.”
“That sheep was important.”
I glanced over my shoulder at Liam. He didn’t say a word, but he studied the board with interest. His knee rested against my back, the contact so warm, steady, and familiar now that I barely noticed it unless I thought about it.
Which I was trying not to do.
Because tonight I had something to say to him.
And every time I remembered that fact, my stomach flipped uncomfortably.
Bobbi reached forward and moved another wooden piece. “There.”
“BAD MOVE,” Markie screeched.
Bobbi rolled her eyes at him. “You are not helping.”
“HELP.”
“You are judging.”
“JUDGE.”
Liam lightly scratched under Markie’s beak. “He’s giving constructive criticism.”
The bird puffed slightly with satisfaction.
Bobbi turned to Liam. “You’re on her team.”
“I’m aware.”
“You’re not supposed to help the other team.”
“I’m not helping.”
Markie leaned forward again. “BAD MOVE.”
Bobbi squinted at him. “You are clearly helping.”
Liam shrugged. “I can’t control him.”
“You absolutely can.”
“I cannot.”
Markie bobbed his head. “BAD DOG.”
Bobbi turned to me. “Why does he say that?”
