“Agony.”
She smiles softly at me, but I’m robbed of the lovely sight when Mia runs back into the room. “Uncle Ty?” she says sweetly, climbing up the side of my chair to get on my lap.
“What’s up, Mia?”
“Are you and Lainey boyfriend and girlfriend?”
I balk at her serious little face. “What made you ask that?”
“You were touching each other under the table.”
It turns out I don’t need any food in my mouth to choke. I start coughing all over the table, swinging wide eyes to Lainey.
She’s quick to come to my rescue. “We weren’t touching under the table, Mia,” she placates gently.
“Yes, you were. I dropped my napkin and saw . . .” She starts giggling. “I saw your hand on Uncle Ty’s dinky.”
More choking, except this time I can’t seem to catch a breath through it. I look to Lainey, seeing equal panic in her eyes, though she gathers herself quickly. “Oh,” she says, like enlightenment has just struck her. “You mean when he dropped a pea on his lap.” She shakes her head, laughing. “I was brushing it off, darling. That’s all.”
Mia looks up at me and rolls her eyes, as if disappointed with me. “Uncle Ty, I need to get you one of my old bibs. Mummy kept them, but I haven’t had to wear one since I was three. How old are you, Uncle Ty?”
“Older than you,” I say, thanking everything for Lainey’s quick mind.
“Thirty-seven,” Lainey jumps in.
“Hey,” I yell.
“That’s old.” Mia looks nothing short of disgusted. “You’re even older than Daddy.” She jumps off my lap and runs away.
“Only by a few months,” I yell after her. “He’s thirty-seven soon. And I’m much better looking than your daddy.”
Lainey falls forward onto the table, laughing.
“I don’t know what you’re finding so funny,” I grumble. “You’re screwing this old man.”
“What was that?” Sal asks, appearing at the doorway and wandering toward us. Lainey shoots up from the table, bolt upright in her chair.
“We were just discussing politics.” I force sureness and eliminate my growing panic.
“Not in this house,” Sal warns, finger wagging at me. “I row enough with my wife already. Let’s not start another.”
Lainey gives me a fleeting appreciative look out the corner of her eye, and I relax in my chair. She’s not the only quick-thinking one around here.
Moya joins us, more red wine in her glass, and I tip my bottle at her. “Dinner was lovely.”
“Yes, lovely,” Lainey agrees.
“Thank you.” She plants her bum on a chair and looks to Sal. “It’s Mia’s bedtime.”
Sal’s head drops, defeated before he’s been defeated. “Oh, joy.” He pushes his chair away from the table sluggishly as he downs the rest of his Scotch, searching for some strength in that glass. “If I’m not back in five minutes, come rescue me.”
Lainey and I both laugh lightly as he drags his heavy body into the garden, calling his daughter.
It takes just thirty seconds for the commotion to start, and thirty more seconds for Sal to get Mia from the trampoline to the door, screaming bloody murder. “I’m not going to bed,” she howls, wriggling fiercely in Sal’s arms.
“Now, now, Mia. Let’s not show off in front of our guests.”
She pays no attention, making it as difficult as possible for Sal to carry her through the dining room. Moya blows out an impatient breath. “I’d better step in before all hell breaks loose.”
It hasn’t already?
“I’ll let you get on.” Lainey gets up from the table, and my eyes follow her. “Thank you for inviting me. It’s been lovely to meet you. I should be getting on my way, anyway.”
She took the words right out of my mouth. “Yes, thanks, Moya. Always a pleasure.” I get up too, itching to get Lainey alone.
“Wait up, I need to talk to you,” Moya tells me.
What? No. But I can’t possibly refuse. I sag, totally gutted, as Moya says her goodbyes to Lainey, taking her in a hug and squeezing her tightly, a bit too tightly for two people who just met. Lainey’s face tells me she thinks the same, and when Moya whispers something in her ear, Lainey breaks away quickly, diverting her eyes from mine. What did Moya say to her?
Lainey leaves hastily, and I can honestly say I’m stumped. And then I look at Moya, who looks . . . contemplative. She’s definitely not herself. “You okay?” I ask.
She swings around, a little unstable, and slaps a huge grin on her face. “Couldn’t be better.”
“What was that then?”
“What?”
“You whispering in Lainey’s ear.”
“Just wishing her well in the job.”
“Really?” I ask. “Being friendly all of a sudden, were you? After making the poor woman squirm all night?”
“What are you talking about?”
“How much wine have you had?”
Moya claps her hands together. “Not enough. Let me get a fresh bottle.” She heads off to the kitchen, and I quickly pull my phone out to text Lainey.