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“He went to take a piss.”

“Oh my God.”

“What?”

“I just told you all of that.”

“You did.” I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing again.

“I thought you were Declan.”

“Gathered that.”

“Why didn’t you stop me?”

“I tried.”

Trying and thinking about it are two different things. I haven’t seen her since Christmas, and hearing a Delaney detailed information dump wasn’t so bad. Actually, I missed it.

“You absolutely did not.”

She got me.

“I said yeah.”

“I didn’t hear it, but even still, that doesn’t count.”

“It was the only opening you gave me.”

She groans. I can picture it too easily. Brown hair piled on top of her head. Nose scrunched. Probably glaring at absolutely nothing while she paces.

“You’re an ass.”

“So I’ve been told.” I smile into my glass.

“What are you doing with my brother?”

“We played St. Louis tonight.”

A long pause.

“You didn’t know that?”

“I don’t stalk your schedule, Bishop. I’m not your keeper, and honestly, I couldn't care less that Chicago beat St. Louis.”

And there it is. She was watching my game.

Her brother’s game.

“Never said we won.” I let the words hang there, enjoying the trap she walked straight into.

“Whatever, Dad told me.”

“Why are we getting so defensive, Baby Becks?”

“I'm not. Also, I hate that nickname.”

“I know.” My grin widens.