“He’s competing with me,” I jump in. “Saving my ass since my own daughter ditched me.”

May rolls her eyes as I lay on the dramatics, trying to take the focus off Travis.

“Okay, makes sense,” Mitch says. Then he looks pointedly at Elise and Grant before adding, “‘Cause, you know, he’s Brenden’s boyfriend and all.”

I barely hold back my groan, internally smacking myself on the forehead. Wish I could smack Mitch.

“Hey, Grandma, are you ready to play?” May asks, smoothly diverting her grandparents’ attention.

Although I don’t think Grant has even heard anything Mitch said, because he hasn’t taken his wary eyes off Delilah. He’s clearly not used to seeing a chicken walking on a leash, but that’s a weekly occurrence in Mayweather.

But anyway, it’s a relief when Roddy Harkins shouts into his megaphone that the games will begin in two minutes and asks all teams to get in place for the first event. I don’t know how the bar owner got this gig, but he’s been the announcer for the May Games ever since I moved to town. Pretty sure he gets a sick pleasure in narrating everyone’s falls and misfortunes.

Grant hugs May and wishes her and Elise good luck, then wishes me and Travis the same. As the four of us go over to take our places, I watch him hastily distance himself from Mitch, which is definitely for the best.

The egg toss is the first event. (I have a sneaking suspicion this is to ensure a bunch of us get messy early on for the amusement of the spectators.) May and I are next to each other in one line, facing Elise and Travis a few feet away in the other line. Travis still looks a bit like he’s being tortured.

“Come on,” I tell him. “We’ve got this!”

His brow furrows and he gives me a skeptical look. “Can you even throw?”

“Well...”

May snorts, so I kick out at her ankle in retaliation.

“It’s not my strong suit,” I admit. “But surprisingly, I’m pretty good at catching.”

Travis makes a choked, strangled sound. It takes me a moment to mentally replay what I said, and...

“Oh my god! Not like—I mean, well, yeah, I—That’s not what I meant!”

He presses his lips together in what looks like an attempt to fight a smile. My face is flaming, but I’m also suppressing the urge to laugh. If Travis and I were alone, I’d probably think of something clever to say about how good I am at that kind of catching. But my daughter and her grandmother are within hearing distance, so nope. We will not be going there.

Luckily, one of the event volunteers is currently walking in between the two lines of partners, passing out eggs from a wicker basket. She reaches May first, then me, and I focus on not accidentally crushing the fragile egg in my hand before we even start. Because that’s totally something I might do.