“We should,” she says. “And you want to bring the flowers and put them as our centerpiece?”
“Good idea,” Rose says, taking them and following me to the dining room where I start getting the plates out of the china hutch.
I feel Rose watching me, but ignore her in hopes that one of my family members will interrupt before she has the opportunity to ask me why I’m so restless today. “Why are you so jumpy?” she asks, proving bad luck is not solely owned by Arlo.
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“Why would my dad ask Arlo to appraise the guy who’s taken his place on the team since he was injured?”
Rose shrugs. “I don’t know. Didn’t you say that as the head coach, he looks at the overall game rather than individual players?”
I shake my head. “He’s going to know how the guy who’s replacing one of his star players is doing.”
“So, maybe he just wants his opinion? You know, make sure Arlo is aware of how good his replacement is to act as motivation? Coaches do that kind of thing, right?
“Yeah, but how would you like it if some guy you slept with turned around and slept with someone in front of you and asked you to rate their performance?”
“Are you upset over this?”
I drop my shoulders, trying to ease the tension I feel in every muscle in my body. “I don’t know how I feel. I just think that was a really rude question.”
“You jumped to defend him,” she points out.
“I didn’t jump.”
“You’re right, you high-jumped.”
I glare at her. “You’re on your own for brunch next month.”
She cracks a smile. “I’m just saying…”
“I don’t want to hear what you’re saying. Will you go get silverware and napkins, please?”
“That it’s okay if you like Arlo,” she says, finishing her sentence.
“I’d stand up for you, too.”
She grins outright but doesn’t say anything.
We finish setting the table and help Whitney plate the garlic mashed potatoes, chicken Marsala, green beans with crispy fried onions and bacon, and warmed herb rolls. Whitney adds three kinds of flavored butters and champagne glasses to each place setting before getting Ross, Colton, Dad, and Arlo to join us, except she doesn’t yell because Whitney never yells. Instead, she goes around and collects everyone.
“Eating dinner here makes me wish I knew how to cook,” Rose admits as she takes her seat.
Whitney laughs, a smile spreading across her face. “You’re always welcome here.”
I miss the rest of their conversation as Arlo and Dad step into the room, Arlo explaining something with liberal amounts of football terms that make my head spin. I know Arlo’s a good player—one of Brighton’s best—but most of that knowledge has been relayed to me from Rose and attending Brighton, where everyone talks about the team and players like local celebrities.
Dad nods in agreement. “I had no idea you had so much insight.”
“We watch tape a lot. Paxton’s sister is like a mind reader when she watches the games—it’s helped me learn and so has being injured. I pay attention to more than just my position and my own hurdles—watching the game as a whole.”
Dad pats his shoulder. “Further proof, you’re a great player.” Dad moves to the head of the table to take his seat, yelling for my brothers on his way. “This looks fantastic, honey,” Dad says. It’s a genuine comment, and I know she appreciates it—feeding people seems to make her happy—but, the fact she made her own dinner, and I picked out her gifts, bothers me. I hope my dad and little brothers did something today without help.
Ross and Colton slide into the room, Colton shoving Ross and accusing him of cheating.
“Boys,” Whitney warns. “It’s my birthday. Can you at least pretend to be civil?”
Ross sticks his tongue out in retaliation before moving to sit next to Rose, leaving Arlo and Colton to sit on either side of me.
Colton smells like old gym socks and BO, but as Arlo takes the seat on my other side, soap and the hint of cologne greet me like a warm summer day. I have to fight the reaction to lean in and take deep breaths of him.
Annoyance toward my dad lingers in my thoughts and is definitely—almost completely—due to the Ellen situation, not related to Arlo in any way. Mostly.
“Your brothers are hellions,” Rose says as she closes the car door from where she climbed into the back seat of Arlo’s SUV. “Complete and total hellions. I don’t know how Whitney manages.