So much for first impressions. At least this was a good one, right?
Janice scowled and crossed her arms. “Where the hell’s my dream house?”
“Storage.” Along with any inkling of jealousy I’d had for the beautician. Right now, Sal’s smile was just for me, and that was a level-up to last a lifetime.
34
Turkey
Sal handed his mother the console. “You can walk around to show everyone, but don’t mess with anything.”
She gave him a baffled look. “I don’t know how to use this thing. And who is she?”
“A friend. Use the analog stick, Ma.”
“The what?”
“I’ll show you.” Ash stepped in. “Nice job, Zero.”
“Thanks.” I tried to smile as I backed from the room.
Maybe she was only so harsh about me as Sal’s non-girlfriend because she wanted what was best for him. Much like his family.
People crowded in to check out our custom world as Sal worked his way to me.
“So, you made me something.” He grinned, his dimples deep.
“It was a thank you. For Thanksgiving. For the turkey. For your friendship. For everything.” I flushed and looked down, pretending to clean my glasses. “Sorry it’s not fully ready.”
“Are you kidding? It’s amazing.” He waved his hands on either side of me, then drew them against his chest. “Can I hug you?”
“Yes.” I laughed, wiping my wet lashes, no doubt smearing my expired makeup. But it didn’t matter here. I launched into Sal’s embrace and hung on tightly, soaking up his warmth, musk, and energy.
Despite running on almost no sleep, holding him recharged me.
“Aw, look at the babes in love,” Uncle Paulie said, clapping us on the shoulders.
“Ow.” Sal laughed, pulling away from him. “You hit me with the cane.”
“It was an accident.” He shook his finger at me. “I had a good feeling about you.”
“Thanks. But we’re just friends,” I said, pushing up my glasses.
“Are you saying you’re not in love with him?” He raised his wiry eyebrows at how I’d pressed myself against him.
“No, I am. But according to Sal, we’re not suited for a…” I glanced at Sal, whose flushed face had gone slack in shock. “Sorry, that’s nobody else’s business. And we’ve only known each other for a few weeks.”
Sal grabbed my elbow and led me to the corner of the dining room by the cabinet, which was about as clear as anywhere we could comfortably reach. “You’re in love with me?”
“Yes. Wasn’t that obvious?” I furrowed my brow. Most of the time I was oblivious to social cues, not the other way around. “Not that it matters. Like you said, I’m kind of a disaster with trust issues, and statistically speaking will likely pass some issues on to any potential children, so…I’m okay being friends.”
“Friends,” he said dubiously. “With benefits again?”
“No, I’m notfinebeing friends, and I don’t expect we can enter into any nonexclusive, deeply emotional arrangement without me losing it, but I’m fine in the sense that being friends is better than the alternative. At least that’s what I told my therapist.”
He stroked my arm, his voice soft. “You’re talking to someone?”
I nodded, fighting against the squeeze in my throat. “I want to be better. And I want you to be happy, Sal. Even if it’s not with me.”
