Page 23 of Big Balls
“Trust me,” I murmur, closing her fingers around the loose cards. “Pick one.”
“As in look at it and pull it out, or as in tell you which one I’m thinking of?” Aunt Opal continues to give me her most skeptical semi-glare, but I know I’m about to have her eating out of the palm of my hand.
Jackson blows out a noisy breath. “Just pick one, Aunt Opal. The sooner we’re done with this, the sooner we get Papa Bear upstairs to yell at someone and make yet another big scene.”
I turn to regard Jackson with a fresh glower. “I could start yelling now if that’s better for you.”
Aunt Opal makes a noise of clear disapproval and waves the stack of cards in front of my face. “Queen of Hearts, okay? Do I need to hand it to you or something?”
I return my attention to the woman in front of me and shake my head decisively. “Now watch this.”
I throw the entire deck of cards straight up into the air. They come down in an irregular pattern, like some sort of odd white, red, and black rainfall, and then I reach up at just the right time.
“No, you didn’t.” Aunt Opal says the words flatly, already shaking her head. “No way.”
I flash her my sports drink smile, the one that set off a wave of social media accusations that I was personally guilty of making an otherwise refreshing beverage into a thirst trap.
Without a word, I give her the card I pulled out of the air. The one she named right before I threw the entire deck straight above me toward the ceiling. She stares at the Queen of Hearts for a long moment, then turns her sharp-eyed gaze to my hands, then ever so slowly travels up my body to my face.
She fans herself for a moment and then dramatically swoons into my arms. “Well, Mister Alexander, that was quite a thrill.”
I give her a quick squeeze, and then turn at the approach of a uniformed security guard. He looks irritated. “You do know you’re going to have to clean up this entire mess, right?” He eyes me in a distinctly unfriendly manner, like he might want to square up and take this outside.
Jackson steps between us, offering up his hands in a show of surrender. “Apologies, sir. I’ve got this. We’re sorry about the mess.”
The security guard stares at the three of us then grumbles off toward the front door, mumbling under his breath the whole way.
Aunt Opal covers her red-lipsticked mouth, but her giggles escape anyway. “It was such a good trick. Please tell me you’ve used that one to get laid before.”
I raise a single eyebrow at her. “A real gentleman would never kiss and tell, Miss Opal.”
Jackson finishes gathering up the cards from the floor and shoves them unceremoniously at me. “You need to put these away and quit showing off.”
I shrug. “Don’t hate on me because I’ve got skills.” I give Aunt Opal a leer. “So many skills.”
She tucks herself against me, her entire body shaking with barely suppressed giggles.
Jackson sighs then puts his hand on my free arm. “Let’s go check on your girl, okay?”
I cuddle Aunt Opal next to me, and the three of us head up the elevator and down the hall toward the pediatric ward of the hospital.
The group of people clustered around my best girl’s bed are all of the people I love most, except my parents. I’ll have to call them later, once things are a little more settled.
Katy looks like a little angel sleeping in her bed. Her hair is smooth and neat looking, and her face looks peaceful, not wracked with the pain of a broken bone.
I’ve broken bones before. It’s not as painless as she’s making it look, that’s for sure. I’ve got a pinky finger that swells up every time it’s going to rain like I’d just hit it with a hammer.
I clear my throat, and my boys and Zoe all turn to look at me. I meet each of their eyes then approach my Katy.
I stare at her, my throat aching with an apology I can’t bring myself to put into words in front of anybody.
I take a deep breath, swallowing the knot in my throat away. “How is she doing?”
There’s a general little bit of shuffling amongst my poker buddies, but it’s Zoe who answers me. “The doctor said she did great in surgery. She’ll be clobbering boys with her cast in a week or two.”
She sniffles, and I see the glimmer of unshed tears in her eyes. “Okay. What aren’t you telling me?”
One of the guys coughs, but I don’t let my attention leave Zoe’s tear-streaked face. I don’t get paid to let my focus drift, so I keep my eyes on my nanny.
