“Stop that,” she says. Then she turns to fuss with the stack of brochures for the inn, and I assume I can consider this conversation over.

It’s time. Let the games begin. I am so ready.

I even remembered to put in a pair of contacts this morning, instead of wearing my glasses. Can’t let anything get in the way of a victory. Not even my daughter.

May and I have been jokingly shit-talking each other for the last couple minutes while we’re waiting on the field for things to get started. Although neither of us is particularly good at it.

While the rest of the festival takes place on the green, the games are held on the football field at the high school. It’s just a quick walk from the green to here, and lots of people will wander over at some point to spectate.

Travis looks like he’d rather be getting a lobotomy than be standing here beside me right now. But I have a feeling he’s going to make a pretty excellent partner, whether he likes it or not. He’s good at basically everything. Let’s hope his skills include silly field-day-type games.

Before I can start psyching him up, Mitch strolls over to us with Delilah strutting along in front of him on a leash. “Who’s ready to watch some people fall on their asses?” he asks, much too loudly.

Elise immediately seems concerned, and Travis turns to give me an unamused look. “I will not be falling on my ass.”

“Hopefully not,” I tell him. “But there’s no guarantees. The games have a way of making fools out of everyone.”

He looks even more deeply unamused.

“Wait, you’re doin’ this shit?” Mitch says, whipping his head toward Travis. “I wouldn’t think you’d be caught dead here.”

Travis frowns. “I’m...”

“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.