“Oh my God. I can’t do this today. You’re being impossible on purpose.” Sliding my hand under the plate, I grab its edge with my other one. “I’m not being impossible. I’m being self-sufficient. Just go talk to Jill.” “Riley, don’t,” she seethes, tugging at the plate. Now, I’m on a mission. There is no way this woman is getting this plate from me. Slipping it from her grip, I take a step down the table and reach out for the next cloudy blur in the center of my vision. Bringing my hand down like one of those claws in a toy arcade game, I make to scoop up whatever bounty I find. My palm connects
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