But if Emma doesn’t want me making a scene, I won’t make a scene.
At least, not much more of a scene.
“I have really bad gas,” I tell Aunt Brenda. “It’s loud. And it smells. I wouldn’t want to sit with me if I were you.”
I belatedly remember that when she wasn’t arresting hippie bra-burners, she was a middle school gym teacher. Probably had all her sniffer sensors burned off already.
Which might account for why she’s always cranky. I would be too if I couldn’t smell coffee or cookies or flowers or Laney’s shampoo.
Stop it, dumbass. Not Laney’s shampoo.
But it was probably the wrong tactic.
Aunt Brenda’s scowl gets deeper.
It was definitely the wrong tactic.
She grabs Sandor by the arm. “Flatulence jokes are for people without two brain cells to rub together. Back in my day, we never would’ve discussed it with our elders either. Come, young man. You don’t have flatulence, do you?”
“N-no,” Sandor stammers while Aunt Brenda drags him onto the lanai where we’re having luau food and dance lessons tonight.
“Theo.” Emma’s full-on glaring and hissing at me as Auntie No-No marches away. “She’s had serious digestive issues that have caused a few horrifically embarrassing moments in public the past few years.”
I open my mouth.
Close it again.
Whoops. “Sorry, Em. I’ll stick to sports and babies and the unstoppable forces of physics as my only conversation topics at dinner. Cross my heart.”
“We’ll go find seats,” Delaney interjects in a strangled voice. She hugs Emma again. “Don’t worry, sweetie. They all know who you’re related to and no one holds you accountable for that.”
“Yeah. You’re related toawesomepeople,” I say. “The best of the best. And you’re even bester than the rest of us.”
Delaney grabs my arm and tugs.
I follow like a freaking dog.
But four more steps down the small, tropical-flowery-bush-lined corridor toward the lanai for tonight’s private family dinner, she makes a noise that almost sounds like a stifled laugh.
I shoot a glance at her.
Is she—holy fuck.
She is.
She’slaughing.
“You like fart jokes?” I ask her in my most seductive voice. “Because if you love fart jokes, there are way more where that came from.”
Can’t help myself.
My hormones have decided it’s time to win Delaney over. There’s notry your normal tacticson her either.
This is go big or go home.
Be so ridiculous that when she doesn’t take my interest in her seriously, I know it’s my own fault.
Is this self-preservation? Or is this me really wanting to see that Delaney who whispered that she wanted to make a sandcastle this morning?
