Chris raises his glass immediately.
“Well done.”
Tommy nods once, approval written plainly across his face.
Nick whistles low under his breath.
Rob looks genuinely impressed.
“That was ridiculous,” he says. “In a good way.”
Christina laughs again, overwhelmed and unguarded.
Then she turns to me.
She doesn’t say anything at first.
She just steps closer to where I sit and rests her arm across my shoulders, her hand settling against the back of my neck like it belongs there. Her body is warm beside mine, real and solid and still humming with adrenaline.
I look up at her.
“I’m proud of you,” I say.
The words feel insufficient for the scale of it, but they’re the only ones that exist.
Her smile softens.
“Thank you for coming.”
I don’t tell her that there is nowhere else I would have been.
I don’t have to.
Someone shoves past behind her.
Not hard enough to knock her over completely, but hard enough that she loses her balance. Her hip hits the edge of the table, glasses rattling loudly, beer sloshing over the rim of Chris’s pint.
My hand comes up automatically, steadying her before she can fall forward.
She straightens immediately and turns around.
The man standing behind her looks ordinary at first glance. Late thirties, maybe. Local. The kind of face you’d pass in the street without remembering it.
He doesn’t apologise.
He doesn’t look embarrassed.
He looks annoyed.
“Watch it,” he says.
Christina doesn’t step back.
“You pushed me.”
He shrugs, dismissive.
“I can go where I want.”