Each sneeze rips through me like I’m mid-exorcism and also auditioning for a porno. I grab my napkin and clamp it over my mouth, which only makes itworse. It muffles the sound just enough to make it soundsuggestive. My face is drenched in tears. My nose is running. My entire soul is leaving my body.
Eric freezes, fork hovering mid-air, eyes wide like he just witnessed the second coming.
“Good Lord, girl!” he booms. “Ifthat’show you sneeze, I can only imagine thesoundsyou make when someone brings you flowers!”
“Dad!” Grant nearly tips his chair backward trying to physically distance himself from his own genetics.
Celia snatches the pepper bowl like it’s a loaded gun. “Eric Taylor, you shut your mouth before I feed you your own belt!”
But the damage is done.
Christian ishowling, slapping the table like a drunk seal. “Oh myGod, Mia, are you okay?”
Lily is doubled over, wheezing. “Was that a sneeze or aromantic climax?! I’m sweating!”
Ryan looks traumatized but impressed. “I didn’t even know a human throat could make those noises, outside of you know, the bedroom.”
Even Connor—stoic, always-business Connor —is choking silently on his water, face red, tears in his eyes, lips pressed together like if he opens his mouth, he’s getting excommunicated from dinner.
And me?
I’m sitting in a puddle of my ownmortification, face red, napkin soaked, sinuses on fire, questioning every life decision that led me to this godforsaken dinner table.
I manage to croak, “I’m fine.”
Eric, completely unbothered, reaches for his cornbread. “Well hell, Mia. If you ever decide to release an audiobook of sneezes, I’d buy two copies. One for me and one for the truck.”
“For the love of all that’s holy,Dad!” Grant practically yells.
I bury my face in my hands.
Celia reaches across the table to pat my hand. “Well, we'll just keep the pepper far away from you from now on, honey. Though I must say, I've never heard anyone sneeze quite so...enthusiastically”
Everyone at the table erupts in uncontrollable laughter again. I’m mortified, and yet... through the humiliating symphony of Taylor-family cackling and my complete emotional unraveling…
I start to laugh too. A pathetic, tear-streaked, wheezy laugh.
The conversation shifts, and I feel Grant's leg press against mine under the table. When I glance at him, the warmth in his eyes makes my heart stutter in a way that has nothing to do with pepper allergies.
“So, Mia,” Lily says, refilling my water glass, “did Grant ever tell you about the time he entered a line dancing competition to impress a girl?”
Grant groans. “Lily, no.”
“Lily, yes,” I counter, turning to her eagerly. “Please do continue.”
She grins wickedly as she leans in “Well, he was sixteen and head over heels for Jessica Palmer, who happened to love line dancing. So naturally, our rodeo star here decided to enter the county competition despite having two left feet.”
“I'm not that bad,” Grant protests.
“You fell off the stage,” Ryan deadpans from across the table.
My eyebrows shoot up. “You fell off a stage?”
“More like tumbled,” Ryan clarifies, clearly enjoying his brother's discomfort. “Right into the judges' table. Knocked over three drinks and a plate of nachos.”
I turn to Grant, delighted by the flush creeping up his neck. “And what did Jessica think of your graceful performance?”
“She ended up dating the winner,” he admits with a rueful smile. “But in my defense, that guy was practically professional.”
