“Cal's getting nachos.” I settled onto the cold metal bench, pulling my jacket tighter. “Where's everyone else?”
“Melissa's home with the baby,” Abby said, wrapped in a thick blanket beside Nate. “Jason brought Liam—he's running around somewhere with the other three-year-olds, probably hyped up on cotton candy.”
“Connor's been stress-eating protein bars all day,” Emily added. “Evan keeps texting me play updates like I have an opinion on his football strategy.”
“Do you?”
“Oh, Iabsolutelydo.” She grinned wickedly. “But if I tell Evan, he'll steal my best ideas and act like he thought of it himself.”
Nate leaned forward. “Fair warning—if we win tonight, we're playoff bound. Which means Connor will talk about nothing else for weeks.”
“As opposed to now, when he talks about something else?” Abby tucked the blanket around her legs. “He spent twenty minutes yesterday explaining why the defensive line needed better footwork.”
“That's actually important?—”
“Nate.” Abby patted his knee. “You're doing the thing.”
“What thing?”
“The thing where you pretend football is fascinating so you can fit in.” Abby's eyes sparkled with amusement.
“That's not—Iplayedfootball.” Nate straightened, indignant. “Briefly.”
“You ran into a goal post and gave yourself a concussion.”
“That doesn't mean I don't enjoy watching the game.”
“Come on, you don't have to pretend you care about Connor's defensive strategies,” Emily added.
“Idocare.”
Emily was already moving, squeezing past Abby to plop down on Nate's other side. “Oh, this I have to hear. Tell me, Nate—what's your favorite play?”
“I don't have to prove anything to you.”
“That's what I thought.” Emily grinned. “You're all talk. Admit it—you just like sitting with Connor and Evan because it makes you feel like one of the guys.”
“Iamone of the guys.”
I watched them bicker, Emily gesturing wildly while Nate tried to defend his newfound football knowledge. Abby caught my eye, shaking her head fondly.
“They could do this all night,” she said.
“Should we stop them?”
“Nah. Emily needs the warm-up before she starts yelling at the refs.” Abby shifted, making more room on the bench. “How's it been with Walt back? I heard he and Barbara are in town for a couple of weeks.”
“It's been wonderful,” I said, smiling. “I keep forgetting they're only here temporarily. Barbara's been helping me perfect my apple butter recipe, and Walt's been showing her all his old haunts around town.”
“Apple butter?” Abby's eyebrows shot up. “Look at you, expanding your product lines.”
“Don't start.” But I was grinning. “I made three batches yesterday. Cal took two jars home, and I caught him eating it straight out of it this morning.”
“That's love right there.”
“Or a serious sugar addiction.” I watched the team warming up on the field, spotting Evan's broad frame near the sidelines. “I still can't get over how well everything's working out. The farm, the market, figuring out all of Walt's mysterious systems.”
“You've come a long way from panicking about that Seattle job offer,” Abby said with a knowing smile. “Remember when you called me, completely torn about what to do?”
