Page 25 of We Met Like This
“It’s not a nine-course meal.”
“I’m sure whatever it is, it’s the best.”
“Is that an insult?”
My brows shot down. “Did it sound like one? It wasn’t supposed to be.” A group of kids shrieked as they ran by us.
“Speaking of meals,” Audrey said. “I want to take you to brunch after this.”
“What?” I asked.
“Brunch,” she said. “I know you missed the one with your friends for this. Chase offered to take the boys home and I could really use some time away.”
“Yes, sounds good.”
Kids gathered around us before we even had time to set the ice chest on the newly stained picnic table beside the bleachers.
“You played good, guys,” I said, rubbing my nephews’ sweaty hair.
My dad joined us and gave me a hug. “Hey, honey. Haven’t seen you in a couple weeks. Glad you were able to come.”
“It was fun. You should come to my side of LA for dinner sometime.”
“That would be nice,” he said.
Audrey was pulling string cheese, carrot sticks, apple sauce pouches, and a bag of what looked like rolled salami withtoothpicks out of the ice chest. “One of each until everyone has had some,” she said, then gave me a pointed look, which made me realize I wasn’t helping at all.
“Yes, one each, everyone,” I said, then set up shop by the string cheese and handed them out as the kids went by.
A little girl stopped in front of me, snatching the string cheese I held. She looked me up and down, then said, “Your shirt is ugly and wrinkly.”
“You know what else is ugly?” I asked.
My sister, obviously hearing me, elbowed me in the side.
“My shoes,” I said, raising my dirty sneaker in the air.
“You’re right, they really are ugly,” she said.
A person who I assumed was her mom had just come up behind her, and she gasped. “Jasmine, say you’re sorry. That wasn’t very nice.”
“Sorry,” she sang in anot sorry at allvoice, and skipped away.
“I’m so sorry,” Jasmine’s mom said in avery very sorryvoice.
I shrugged. “In her defense, my shirt is ugly.”
The woman looked at my shirt, and I could tell she was trying to think of something nice to say, but when she couldn’t, she rushed after her daughter.
Once the only kids left around the table were Jack and Samuel, I turned to my sister and said, “You thought I was going to insult that little girl, didn’t you?”
My mom and dad were helping my nephews pry open cheese and peel oranges.
“I could tell you wanted to,” she said.
“I was just going to tell her baseball uniforms are ugly.” She was right; had she not elbowed me, I would’ve.
“Glad you held your tongue.”
