“Right then.” Grandpa clears his throat. “Maybe that’s why you don’t know much about baseball.” He brushes it off like a joke, but I know that tone. The discomfort of Wyatt’s joke is still so obvious on everyone’s face, and as embarrassed as I am, I can’t help but feel a little proud of Wyatt in this moment.

“Actually, my mama is a big baseball fan. I just don’t find it that interesting.”

“Hmm …” Grandpa hums, and goes back to nursing his mimosa.

After that, they’re gracious enough to leave Wyatt alone. I do put my hand on top of his to get his attention when I notice how rigid his body goes, how quiet.

“Sorry,” I mouth to him.

He just gives me a sympathetic look and a shrug.

The rest of brunch passes quickly, with another set menu of omelets and bacon and quiches and waffles and fruit salads.

When the final course has been served and eaten, and everyone else seems tipsy and buried in their own conversations, I nod to Wyatt, motioning for us to take our chance to get out of the tent. We’re nearly out of the garden too when Mom calls my name.

I turn, and she’s standing by the tent, waving me back over to her.

“So close,” I whisper. “Wait here. I won’t subject you to her any more than you have to be.”

“Fair.” Wyatt tucks his hands in his pockets and sits on the brick half wall around the entrance as I race back toward Mom.

“Where are you going?”

“Back to the hotel. I thought we were done eating.”

“Is food all you care about?” she says with a certain level of venom in her voice. Like how dare I eat food at a brunch.

“I just thought—”

“You didn’t even say goodbye to your grandmother. She’s very upset with you.”

“I don’t want to talk to her.”

“Neil, please. I’m asking you nicely. And do tell Wyatt not to mention his parents again. You know how your grandparents feel.”

“You mean I know how homophobic they are? Yeah, I’m fully aware.”

“They’re just from a different time.”

“Such bullshit,” I mumble.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” I keep my head down.

“I want you to go get fitted for your suit. Your appointment is today. Does Wyatt have the appropriate attire for the wedding?”

“I was going to get him fitted for a suit too.” I don’t want to admit to basically stealing from her right in front of her face, but she doesn’t seem to mind actually.

“That’s fine; you can have them put it on the same bill as your suit. But I was also talking about the other events.”

Her voice has taken on this sudden trepidation. Almost like she’s afraid to say what she’s saying. Which is extremely odd coming from her.