At exactly the same moment, Tessa stepped backward.
She never looked.
Her shoulder bumped mine.
The tea container tilted sharply.
Ice slammed against the glass.
I twisted sideways to keep from dropping it.
My forearm brushed against Tessa’s upper arm as I caught my balance.
That was all.
A two-second accident.
“Tessa—sorry, I didn’t—”
She spun around.
“Get your hands off me!”
Her voice ripped across the backyard.
Every conversation stopped.
Even the kids near the fence went quiet.
I froze with the tea dispenser still against my chest.
“What?”
“I said don’t touch me!”
She backed away dramatically, staring at me as though I had charged across the patio after her.
“Tessa, you stepped backward into me.”
Her eyes immediately filled with tears.
Not gradually.
Instantly.
“You’re always doing things like this when Dad isn’t paying attention.”
My stomach dropped.
“What are you talking about?”
Marcus appeared from beside the grill.
“What happened?”
Tessa looked at him.
“She grabbed me.”
I actually laughed once.
Not because anything was funny.
Because the accusation was so absurd that my mind seemed unable to process it.
“No, I didn’t.”
Tessa rubbed her arm.
“She did.”
Marcus looked at me.
Then at his daughter.
Then back at me.
For one foolish second, I thought he would ask a question.
Any question.
Where was Claire standing?
Where was Tessa standing?
Did anybody see it?
Why would Claire intentionally grab someone while carrying a fifteen-pound glass container with both hands?
Instead, his expression hardened.
“Claire, apologize.”
I stared at him.
“I already apologized for bumping into her.”
“That’s not what she says happened.”
“And you’re not even going to ask what happened?”
