“Ah, I see.”
I wonder if the hot guy he’s seeing is actually the roommate, when I last saw him he did mention more than once how attractive he was. If it is, I need to change the subject…
“Can I help you with dinner, Sofía?” I ask, looking to the kitchen.
“No need, we’re getting takeout this evening; I hope you like Chinese food?”
“Absolutely,” I say, trying not to smile too much at the fact that Chinese takeout is a favorite of ours, and that Angel and I have spent many an evening in bed together with a couple of cartons of noodles or rice.
“Great, I’ll phone in the order,” Miguel says, taking out his cell. “What would you both like?”
Before I have a chance to say anything, Angel leans on the counter and lists off our usual order to Miguel.
“Please can we get a Beef Ho-fun, a Vegetable Chow Mein, but with no mushrooms, and some Spring Rolls?”
“Sure,” Miguel says, “and that’s for both of you?”
They glance between us, a knowing look on Sofía’s face.
“Yes please,” I say, “we order Chinese takeout at the club sometimes, and that’s usually what we share… I mean all of us… everyone shares it…”
I know, I’m a terrible liar, and it one hundred percent sounds like I’m making this up.
“Great,” Miguel says, and I can feel Angel smirking at me.
It doesn’t take long for the food to arrive, and as Sofía and Miguel are also sharing, we put the cartons on each side of the table, family style. Everything smells delicious, but I don’t manage to hide my disappointment when I see the mushrooms in the Chow Mein. It’s not an allergy or anything, I just hate the texture. I go to pick them out, but Angel beats me to it.
“I’ve got you,” he says, picking out the pieces with his chopsticks.
“Thanks,” I say, sharing the spring rolls between our plates.
Sofía smiles at me and I worry how obvious we are, but the look on her face tells me that even if she does know, she’s absolutely okay with it.
I’m in the same guest room as last time, and as Sofía and Miguel go to bed so early and aren’t likely to disturb us, Angel soon joins me there. Considering that we’ve spent the best part of the last twenty-four hours having sex, we both just settle in to snuggle and sleep.
“Your mom knows about us,” I whisper, my head resting against his chest.
He chuckles. “I know, I didn’t say anything, but it’s so much harder to hide it now; so many parts of our lives are connected, it would have felt weird ordering a separate takeout tonight.”
“Yeah, I can’t wait to tell Donovan about us tomorrow, and then we don’t have to hide anymore.”
He kisses the top of my head and holds me closer for a moment.
“I’m ready if you are.”
It’s about mid-morning when Donovan arrives and we’re all out by the pool as we hear him shout from inside.
“Mamá? Miguel? I’m here!”
“We’re outside, mijo!” Sofía calls, as she gets up from her lounger to greet him.
When Donovan steps out, I expect to see a look of joy on his face, he’s usually so happy to see me; but instead, as he catches sight of Angel and I, his face drops, a look of panic and worry crossing it, before a fake smile takes its place.
“Hey, little bro,” Angel says, pulling him into a hug.
“Hey,” Donovan replies, the enthusiasm obviously fake. “Happy Birthday. I uh… I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
“It’s called a surprise,” Angel says, lightly punching him on the shoulder.
