Nothing will be the same after this.
I just hope we can make it better instead of worse.
Chapter 3
Dane
The scent of smoked turkey greets Amanda and me as we circle around back at my grandparents’ house, making my stomach turn.
Roasted meat is not my favorite scent. Turkey might be the worst.
But it’s not a Tinsel cookout if you’re not smoking a turkey.
Probably mashed potatoes and gravy inside. Green bean casserole. Hawaiian rolls.
Definitely fruitcake.
If you can’t do a Tinsel cookout without a smoked turkey, you can’t have more than three Silvers in the same location without also having fruitcake.
“You’re serious about liking fruitcake?” I ask Amanda as my uncle Rob comes into view at the smoker. He’s wiping his forehead with his apron and doesn’t spot us right away. There’s a red-and-green-striped pop-up shelter between the smoker and the back door, set up with folding chairs and two big fans, but it’s empty.
“I am.” She smiles at me, and it’s like staring into the sun. I know I should look away, but I can’t help it.
You’re not seventeen anymore. Get it together. This isn’t about high school fantasies. It’s about leaving Tinsel better than how we found it.
“About time to prove it.”
“Seriously?”
“It’s not a—”
“Amanda?”Lorelei’s shrill whisper from the window to our left cuts me off. “What are you doing here?”
It’s still over ninety degrees, which makes the turkey smell extra nauseating. My shirt is clinging to my chest. Pretty sure my deodorant has failed. The one thing I want most right now is a dip in the lap pool back at my condo building in San Francisco and to not have to do this.
Instead, I wrap my arm around Amanda and tug her close, bringing all her body heat and the scent of cinnamon sugar and the feel of the smooth skin of her upper arm into my personal bubble. “She’s with me.”
Lorelei’s eyeballs go wide, but not evenly.
One goes wider than the other, and then the second goes wider than the first.
They cross momentarily as she gasps, and then—
I stifle a sigh.
My sister doubled over laughing at this announcement was not how I saw this going.
Yelling from my uncle? Yes.
Outrage from my grandpa? Also yes.
Guilt from my grandma? Undoubtedly.
Disappointment from my dad? Inevitable.
“If you wanted coal in your stocking this year—” Lorelei starts.
“We’re engaged,” Amanda says stiffly, clearly offended—or at least faking being offended very well.
