Page 143 of The Grumpy Defenseman

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The hallway erupted.

I stood in the middle of it with my camera bag on my shoulder and thepeople I loved colliding into one another from every direction.

No one was quiet.

No one was easy.

And for once, my first instinct was not to step back and document the shape of it from a safer distance.

Evan looked at me over Tommy’s head.

His expression changed.

Not much.

Enough.

You okay?

I nodded.

Yes.

Then he reached for me with his free hand.

I took it.

No hiding. No calculation. No waiting to see who noticed.

Everyone noticed.

Bella noticed first, obviously, and made a small wounded sound into her champagne that suggested our happiness was somehowpersonally fulfilling and deeply inconvenient.

Kathleen smiled.

Lena looked away too quickly, which meant she was crying and would deny it under oath.

Tommy said, “Does this mean Aunt Sam is coming to Sunday dinner?”

The hallway went silent in exactly the way hallways go silent when a child has said the thing all adults have been carefully avoiding saying directly.

Evan turned to me.

I looked at him.

A year ago, that question would have felt like a trap.

A lifetime ago, it would have felt like proof that belonging came with terms I had not agreed to.

Now it felt like a door.

Open.

Waiting.

I squeezed Evan’s hand once.

“Yeah,” I said. “If I’m invited.”

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