I chew on my lip, fidgeting with the edge of the blanket between my fingers. “It’s been a lot. Especially knowing about all the time we wasted.”
“And knowing he’s been in love with you the whole time,” she corrects.
I freeze at the words. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
I sit up abruptly, glancing at myself in the mirror on the far side of the room. “We’renottalking about love, okay? We just got into this. Let me marinate in the chaos first.”
“Whatever you say, babe. But remember, I always see it first.”
I shake my head. “I don’t have time for this existential crisis. I have to get through dinner first.”
“Oh, god, the brothers,” she snickers. “Do they know yet?”
I sigh dramatically, thinking about being in a room with all my brothers staring at me and Alex. “They will when I walk in with him.”
“Cam is gonna combust.”
“I know.” I push up from the bed.
“You doing ok? Have you heard about a donor yet?” She changes the subject so fast that it catches me off guard.
“I’m fine, and no. Nothing heard, yet.” I respond dryly.
“Any day now, Em.”
“I need to finish getting ready,” I deflect, desperate for the topic to disappear.
“Fine,” Dallas huffs. “Call me after dinner. If you need an emergency extraction, text me the code word.”
“What’s the code word?”
“Mamoncillo.”
I burst out laughing. “Why the hell would I randomly say mamoncillo?”
“That’s the point. It’s so out of place, I’ll know it’s an emergency.”
I roll my eyes, smiling. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re in love with Alex. Byeeee.”
She hangs up before I can protest. I stare at the phone, shaking my head before slipping it into my purse.
God help me.
Between my family, Alex, my failing heart, and whatever the hell my feelings are doing, I pray tonight isn’t eventful and that I survive without any major fires.
32
EMMA
Alex parks in front of Table 47, in the small spots that line the businesses on Main. The restaurant has a dark brick exterior that glows under the golden light of the streetlamps. It’s warm and inviting from the outside, with its deep blue awning stretched over the entrance and name painted in elegant white lettering. Large windows reveal the soft flicker of candlelight inside, making the space feel more like a home than a bustling restaurant.
For the first time ever, Cam has decided to host Thanksgiving here instead of at the house. I think it’s because this place means more to him than anywhere else. It’s also easier than trying to fit all of us into the dining room at home, since there are now a few more additions than there were years ago. Either way, it’s different, and change always makes me nervous. Though I think Thanksgiving at the house would have been way more gut wrenching without Mom.
Before I can reach for the door handle, Alex grabs my hand in his, fingers warm and steady around mine. “Hey.”
