“Shut up.”
“Make me.”
Michaela tugs on my sleeve. “This is why I need more girls in the family. Way too many sausages.”
“I told you to stop using that term. You don’t even know what it means,” David says.
“I know it’s something to do with boys’ rude bits,” Michaela says.
David lets out an exasperated sigh as he turns to Dominic. “Do you see what you did?”
“I can,” Dominic says, nodding sagely. “And I’m going to fix it right away—Michaela, honey, don’t say ‘sausages’. The technical term for a group of guys is a ‘sausage party’.”
“Dominic!”
The Italian restaurant is loud. Not unpleasantly so, but the noise level requires constant recalibration.
We end up at a farm-to-table place in Lincoln Park that Layla knows, crammed around a table meant for eight with Michaela somehow commanding the head position like a tiny mob boss. She’s shed the blazer and is currently constructing a tower out of artisanal breadsticks while simultaneously interrogating Jenna about her job.
“So you’re like a secretary?”
“Executive assistant,” Jenna corrects coolly.
“What’s the difference?”
“About six figures and a corner office.”
Michaela considers this. “Respect. I like that. Never let people diminish your title.”
“I never do.”
“We should do business together sometime.”
“I’ll have my people call your people.”
“I don’t have people yet. But I’m working on it. My school has an excellent entrepreneurship program starting in fourth grade.”
I watch Audrey laugh at something Serena said, her whole face bright. I like seeing her like this—her laugh ringing bright like a melody that’s been tuned perfectly for my ears. The way she leans forward, genuinely engaged in whatever conversation is unfolding, reminds me why I fell for her in the first place.
“I can’t get over the change in you.” Dominic interrupts my reverie, dropping into the seat next to me and flicking his gaze toward Audrey. “You’re less...”
“Less what?”
“Less like you’re running on a separate operating system from the rest of humanity.” He takes a drink. “More like you’re actually here.”
I consider this. “Is that an improvement?”
“Yeah, man. It really is.”
Audrey catches me looking and smiles. I smile back, and for once, my face does what I want it to without conscious intervention.
“So,” Michaela announces, turning her attention from Jenna to scan the table with the air of a general surveying her troops. “Now that we’re all here, I have an important question.”
“Should we be worried?” Caleb asks.
“You should always be worried. It keeps you sharp.” She folds her hands on the table. “My question is: who’s getting married next?”
David chokes on his water. “Michaela?—”
