He flashes me a smile. “Thanks. I hope your mom likes it. She should be back from her morning walk in a few minutes.”
I furrow my brow. “Wait. I don’t get any?”
He chuckles, setting a hand on his belly. “You thought this was for you?”
Well, yeah. “Um, I was hoping so,” I say sheepishly.
He arches a salt-and-pepper eyebrow. “After the way you acted last night?”
I flinch. “What?”
Dad shoots me ayou can’t fool me kidstare. “Gabe,” he chides.
I shrug helplessly as I lean against the kitchen counter. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He turns the heat down on the stove. “You were kind of a dick at Tilly’s party.”
I snap my gaze to him, lips parting in protest. “I was not,” I say. But I know that’s a bald-faced lie. From his look, Dad didn’t buy it either.
I sigh heavily. “Shit. It was that obvious?”
He nods once. “You kind of huffed and puffed your way around the place.”
I drag a hand over my chin. “Did Tilly notice?”
“I hope not. But I bet Ellie did. Seemed she was the one you were a jerk to.”
Does he have X-ray vision? “How did you know?”
He laughs, eyes rolling. “Gabe, when you played croquet, you were all broody-faced,” he says, adopting a sour expression.
I wince, knowing he’s right.
“And then later, you were just kind of…” He pauses, perhaps to search for words, and I catch the sound of the front door before he finishes, “Short. Clipped.”
I drop my head into my hand, covering my face in embarrassment. “That’s bad.”
“What’s bad?”
I look up at the question as my mom comes in. She’s not alone. She’s with Ellie’s aunt Tilly. Of course. The two ladies are morning walking partners.
I waste no time with justifications. Dad was right. “I’m sorry I was a moody jerk last night,” I tell the guest of honor.
Tilly tilts her head, her gaze unsure. “About our croquet tips?” she asks, then laughs, patting my shoulder. “Don’t worry. We love trash talking you. It’s too fun to beat up on a pro baller.”
I smile, digging her easygoing style. Her quick forgiveness. She’s like Ellie—warm and inviting.
The mere thought of Ellie tugs on my heart, but I’ve got to fix what I messed up with my family before anything else.
“No, Tilly. I mean, I was kind of pissy all night at your party,” I say, then quickly correct myself. “I wasn’t kind of pissy. I just was moody, and that’s not cool. I’m sorry.”
She squeezes my arm. “It’s fine, sweetie. We can’t be perfect all the time. I barely even noticed.”
I’m grateful for the reprieve, but this is only the start. I turn to my mother. “Sorry, Mom. I should have done better.”
“It happens.” She smiles sympathetically. “I’m guessing you had woman trouble?”
I blink. What is it with my parents seeing right through me? I scrub a hand along my scratchy jaw. “I don’t know,” I mutter.