“Like what? Admiration? I wish I could be so fearless with my waistline.”
She makes a face. “I don’t have a waistline. And for your information, I didn’t have a say in it either. This one is sort of running the show.” She pats her belly openly. “So you can stop judging me.” She moans her way through another bite while grinning up at me like the cat who ate the red velvet canary.
“I aspire to be you.”
“Oh!” She dabs her lips with her napkin while her eyes widen as if she’s just had an epiphany. My God, I hope that’s all she’s having. I have a sinking feeling I would make a terrible midwife. “Speaking of being me. I have something to give you—that is, if you’re interested.” She produces a clear plastic gallon freezer bag filled halfway with lipsticks in every shape and size.
“Ooh,I likey.” I’m quick to snatch the loot from her. “By the way, just for the record, I think your vlogs are ten times more entertaining now that you have a special guest joining you each week.” I glance to her burgeoning belly. “Far more so than it was when you ran solo. That gassy session? If I were you, I wouldn’t go near Mexican food for at least three days before going live.”
“I had the hiccups!”
“Please, you belched out each sentence like a professional frat boy. And that foot cramp that sent you hollering last week? Pure gold, I tell you. Phalangealgold!”
Sunday takes a moment to openly glare at me. “Just wait until my live delivery. I plan on gnawing off the umbilical cord myself.”
“Ha-ha. You’re disgusting by the way.” I spin the bag laden with colorful treasures. “So, what gives? Let me guess. Seth doesn’t like anything coming between him and your lips?”
“Not quite. In fact, it doesn’t have anything to do with Seth. Now that I’m going to be a mom, I need to take better care of myself. I only want natural ingredients in my cosmetics and, believe you me, it’s been a challenge. Do you know how many different lipsticks contain aluminum in its many forms? There’s no way I want to go senile in my old age just because I was uninformed in my youth.”
“Gee, thanks for thinking of me. Not.” I drop the weighted bag onto the table with a bang. “So, what’s that hot pink gunk staining your lips? Let me guess. Pressed berries? By the way, I’m really digging this whole Mother Earth vibe you have going on.”
Her brows rise as she does her best to suppress a smile. “It’s this.” She whips out a cherry red lip crayon and twists it my way until the ingredients list is visible to me.
“Sounds like good stuff, I guess. No aluminum, so it looks as if your IQ points are safe for now. Wait a minute.” I squint a little to get a better look. “What’s carmine? I’m pretty sure that’s questionable. Isn’t that the carcinogen that’s been getting a bad rap lately? The one they say is slowly poisoning us by way of innocent looking sodas?”
“That’s caramel coloring you’re thinking of.” She snatches back her au natural crayon and winces at it herself. “Carmine... Huh, I don’t know.” Sunday gets straight to googling the hell out of it. That’s always been her specialty—defining, understanding, dissecting, and making the right decisions with the exception, of course, of that baby in her belly. Although, I’m willing to bet that baby turns out to be the best mistake she’s ever made. She may not have sought out to make a human that night back in December, but Sunday being the walking good luck charm she is just so happened to bed the love of her life. My mind wanders straight back to Mr. Anonymous, and I let out a dreamy sigh.
“Oh no!” Sunday jumps a little in her seat before letting out an arduous moan. “No, no. This is terrible.”
“I told you it was bad. I bet in thirty years you’ll have a whole other set of lips growing off the side of your head. You just can’t trust these all-natural labels.”
“It’s natural, all right. It turns out carmine is derived from insects that qualify as parasites.”
A wailing laugh bubbles from me as I snatch her phone and read the news myself. “On the bright side, itisone hundred percent natural.”
“There’s that.” She takes her phone back and buries it in her purse as a punishment. “So, what’s new with you? Meet or eat any interesting insects lately?”
I can’t help but bite down over my bottom lip. “No, but I met a masked man who has piqued my interest.”
Her mouth falls open. “Do tell.” Sunday leans in, wide-eyed and panting. So I quickly oblige her with all the dirty little details, and I mean little as in next to zilch.
“Serena!” she hisses, her demeanor turning on a dime. “You are not allowed to go back there. Do you hear me? My God, do you hear yourself? This man is clearly a pervert. He’s probably married with six children!”
My eyes close involuntarily as I become sick at the thought. “And sadly, I would have gladly gifted him number seven.”
“Stop!” she gasps at my lack of discretion.
“You stop. You weren’t there. Now look who’s judging who?” I’m quick to scowl at my cousin. “He was… I don’t know—in a strange way, he was perfect.”
“I bet he was perfect. You couldn’t see his face. You said he didn’t say a word. How could he possibly screw that up?”
“By wearing sweats,” I’m quick to inform her. “Besides, I don’t exactly have another prospect on the front burner, and it was fun—it was dangerous.”
“Emphasis on thedanger.” Her brows pinch in the middle, a good sign she is clearly pissed. “What if he’s the killer everyone is looking for?”
Now it’s me gasping and writhing in my seat. “Trust me, he is no killer.” Not with those lips. My God, I hope not. “He was…”
“You’re at a loss for words because you don’t know anything about him. Serena, this is lunacy. Promise me you won’t go back to that club, or I’ll be forced to tell Lex.”
