Page 271 of Wild Card 13

Bobby snorted.

Dottie wagged.

“She is very sorry,” I continued. “Mostly because she did not catch him.”

The toddler leaned slightly out of Oliver’s hold to inspect Dottie. “Dog.”

“Correct,” I said.

Dottie thumped her tail.

The kid laughed through one last wet hiccup.

Freya appeared with towels. Reed’s daughter picked up the fallen cupcake and announced that grass frosting was not safe. Marco began narrating the cat’s escape until Cam told him to stop making it worse. Alois walked to the dessert table, bent, and retrieved Bento from beneath it with the grim competence of a man disarming a device.

Bento looked entirely pleased with himself. Alois held him at eye level. “You are a problem.”

Bobby, still bracing the stroller, said, “You say that like he cares.”

Bea laughed from her chair, one hand pressed to her belly. Then her face crumpled for half a second with the force of it, the happiness and the exhaustion and the absurdity all folding together.

Rafa was beside her instantly. Not hovering like Alois. Not commanding like Lo. He simply knelt in the grass in front of his daughter and took her hand between both of his.

Whatever he said was too quiet for the rest of us.

Bea nodded, crying and smiling.

Alois saw it. His whole body went still, Bento tucked against his chest like a prisoner. For once, he did not move toward her. He let Rafa have the moment.

I looked down at Dottie. “You have caused significant damage to the vibe.”

She leaned into my knee, forgiven by herself.

“Typical,” Lucy said.

I turned my head.

She stood a few feet away with two glasses in her hands, sunlight catching in her hair. Her face was composed, but her eyes were not. They were soft in a way that made my chest ache. Soft and scared.

She held one glass out to me. Lemonade, sweating lightly in the warmth. “For crisis management,” she said.

I took it carefully, making sure my fingers did not trap hers. “Thank you, Lucy.”

Her gaze dipped to my hand, then returned to my face. “You handled that well.”

I looked down at Dottie. “She did most of the work.”

Lucy lifted one eyebrow. “Dottie?”

“She sat.”

The corner of her mouth moved. “Heroic.”

Arlo emerged beside Lucy, plate in hand, eyes moving from her to me to the drink I held. “Everything good?” There was nothing casual about the question.

I took one step back, giving the space to her before she had to ask for it. “Dottie tried to negotiate peace with Bento.”

Lucy glanced at me. The look was quick, but it carried something I did not know how to hold yet. Gratitude, maybe. Or relief. Or only recognition that I had not made Arlo’s suspicion her problem.