"One regular. One decaf," she cuts me off. A wink. "I know your vices, babe."
I smile. She always had that big-sister energy, even though she's technically only two months older.
Even with Ben, despite her being two years younger and him pushing thirty.
When we get our drinks I grab her hand, wanting to ask her about that holographic shimmer on her nails, crowned with pink mini-bows because that's what Mara and I do—we do girly—but my eyes catch the huge princess diamond ring.
"Oh my god! Are you engaged?"
Cue Mara's signature grin—fingers tapping her cheek, eyes darting sideways. Obviously, she's been dying for me to ask.
"Yeah. Paul. He's a family lawyer," she says enthusiastically. "And don't worry, he doesn't have to be right all the time and he isn't boring. He knows when to be serious, and when to dance around in a towel to 'Let's Get It On.'"
I snort-laugh. "How did you even meet this towel-dancing lawyer?"
"Online." She sighs like that kills their romance.
"Oh..."
"Yeah. He liked all my photos, and I thoughtstalker," she says jokingly before she looks at me with starry eyes. "But then I saw those blue eyes and brown curls, and I thought you know what? If I ever get a stalker, he might as well look like that."
She lifts her glass to toast her foolish heart and I laugh.
"Let me guess—then you went into full CIA mode," I say with a raised brow.
She nods, all cavalier. "You know me. Scrolled all the way to 2016. No lurking exes. No luxury cars, or watches. Found his Pinterest—"
"Pinterest?"
"I know. I know. But don't worry," she stops me when she sees my suspicious face. "He's only pinterested in me, and pinning his DIY projects. He built a whole terrace with papà last summer."
"Ah. Domestic genius. I approve."
Mara launches into a three-year recap at bullet speed, her Brooklyn-baby accent slipping in: she mostly talks about music and fashion, with the same intensity I reserve for novels because she works as an event coordinator for high-end brands, but today everything circles back to Paul, her purrs practically audible.
"I'm so happy for you!" I chew on the strawberry from my lemonade. The best part.
"By the way!" She taps my hand, suddenly too excited. "We're doing Burning Man this year. You have to come!"
"Me?" I lean back, skeptical. "I'd be so lost."
She snaps her fingers at me. "Don't give me that. You're theone who swore you'd walk barefoot through the desert and come back a new woman."
She laughs, the idea obviously still entertaining her and I snort a laugh too because she's right.
"Yeah, that was five years ago. I'm a little more domesticated now."
"But it will be so much fun. Come on!" she whines. "We could undomesticate you." She presses, her hand closing around mine.
"I'm afraid that ship has sailed."
"Ben's going too," she adds, and I swear, did she just give me a sly smirk?
Well, she knows what she's doing because I definitely flinched.
He's coming? We discussed it back in the day, but it was mostly me pushing for it and he didn't seem on board, so what, now he's suddenly into it?
I manage to give her my laziest shrug. "Cool. I'm sure he'll love it."
