I glanced over my shoulder and watched the toddler bang on the air vent.
Her brother had wandered back through the seating area and was playing with the balls on the racks.
His mother had just noticed he'd gotten away from her and had gotten up to go get him.
I turned my attention back to the pins.
"Are you watching?" I asked Adam.
The urge to do something for Adam was so strong it made my hands clench.
"My eyes are peeled," he said.
"Are you going to do something amazing?" I swung the ball awkwardly, as if I'd never bowled before, missed the release, and sent it zipping backward toward the little girl playing with the air.
As soon as it left my fingers, I couldn't believe what I'd done.
Sweating, shaking, and horrified, I turned.
But as quick as I was, I'd missed the action.
Adam had caught the ball a good two feet short of the toddler.
She looked up at Adam, whose noisy fall to the ground had disturbed her play.
When she saw that there was a strange man so close, her eyes got big, and her bottom lip stuck out.
Adam is mostly uninterested in children (other than his own) until they are teenagers or older and, as he told me once, capable of interesting conversation.
"Hey," he said, looking very uncomfortable.
She considered him a moment.
But she was female and Adam was .
.
.
well, Adam.
So she put her hands in front of her mouth and giggled.
It was adorable.
Darling cute.
He was a goner, and everyone who was watching could see it.
The miniature conqueror squealed as her father grabbed her up and her mother, little boy in tow behind her, babbled out thanks.
And you are the villain of the piece.
Poor Mercy.
Of course I was the bad guy; I'd nearly smooshed a toddler.
What had I been thinking? If she'd taken a step back, or if Adam hadn't been fast enough, she could have been killed.