My jaw meets my chest.
She peeks at us out of one squinty eye, then sighs and opens both eyes again. “I’m sorry. I truly am. I don’t know why I said it. My grandma told me that when she announces her retirement this weekend at the party for her fiftieth anniversary of working at the bakery, she’sleaving me the gingerbread bakery, and I can’t bake, and I love Tinsel, I do, but I belong in the city. New York City. It just—it feeds my soul, and I like to think that I give it something back too. And Lorelei and I were talking about dinner right before I went to see my grandma and she said you were coming to town and might join us even though you and I haven’t seen each other in years and I was thinking about how we’d have to be so sneaky to have dinner without my family finding out—”
“Breathe,” I interject.
Can’t help myself.
I don’t think she’s drawn a full breath since she walked in the door.
Also, I need to breathe.
I need to breathe, and I need to think.
My fingers curl into fists and then stretch out on their own as I hunch forward. If it wasn’t so hot, I’d leap up and start pacing.
Engaged.
Engaged to Amanda Anderson.
While I’m not getting engaged toanyoneat this point in my life, the news doesn’t have me as shocked as I would’ve thought it should.
Or as horrified.
She takes a massive breath that makes her chest rise and fall again, drawing my attention to the hint of cleavage at the neck of her tank top, and then she dives right back in. “So you and Lorelei and our families’ stupid fights were already near the top of my brain, and I looked out the window of the Gingerbread House and I saw your family’s Fruitcake Emporium, and then Grandma said I’m the only person who can take the gingerbread bakery now, and the next thing I knew, I was blurting out that I was engaged to you. I panic-engaged us because being engaged to a Silver is basically the only thing worthy of instant disinheriting and it seemed kinder to tell her that being in love with the enemy was the reason I can’t take over the bakery.”
“Breathe,” I say again.
“I’m breathing. Also, I don’t personally think you’re the enemy. I promise. I know you’re a nice guy. Lorelei says so.”
“Breathe more.”
“I’m so sorry—”
I hold up a hand, cutting her off. Chili grunts—that’s his annoyedsomeone’s interrupting my sleepgrunt—and puts his head back down on the couch.
“Ohh, is that your dog?” Amanda says.
I don’t answer.
My brain is spinning too fast, putting a puzzle together and taking me on a path that is far, far,farfrom my preferred predictability as I give in to the desperate need to move right now. The fan hits me as I pace, then the other fan, but neither offers relief.
I don’t think like this.
I don’t jump to conclusions or solutions like this.
I say and do the predictable thing, always—You need to tell them we’re not engaged, or I will—except my entire being is revolting over that idea.
And instead, there’s an unexpected whisper in the back of my mind telling me tostop, drop, and think.
Think about how I didn’t want to take this entire week in Tinsel for my grandparents’ anniversary party, but my dad guilted me into it.Might need an extra set of hands for last-minute plans. You don’t come home enough. Already told us you won’t be home for Christmas.
Think about how I’ve been cutting our conversations short every time he starts complaining about anything around Tinsel.
About how his favorite thing to complain about is Amanda’s family.
About how I saidI got a promotion at work, and the first thing I heard was my uncle cackling in the background.Bet none of them Anderson kids get promotions as fast as our Dane does.Like I’m not a person, but a prop in their war. Just like always.
Dane’s valedictorian. Those Andersons have never done that. Dane aced his SATs. Those Andersons have never done that. Dane’s first clarinet. Those Andersons have never done that.
