My back straightens. He messaged me about twenty minutes ago and asked what I was doing. I told him about this dinner.
“Thanks for the invite,” Emmanuel directs to Carlo.
“I was hoping it got lost in the mail,” Carlo grumbles. They have an odd friendship, these men.
“Tío E! Guess what? Guess what?” Jazzy bounces up and down in her seat.
“What, princesa?” The smile Emmanuel gives his niece melts my damn ovaries.
I’ve never once wanted to have children, even if Charlotte and I have daydreamed about our futures together. I don’t deserve them. I’m not motherly material. It’s an unfamiliar sensation I’m experiencing right now, though. Does Emmanuel wantkids? I probably should have thought of that before I asked him to marry me. I’m thankful that he at least had the smarts to turn me down, or at least to tell me we had to wait.
“I get to go to a new school, and Daddy bought us a new house. And I’m getting a little brother or sister!” Jazzy announces to the room.
Antonia chokes on her wine. “Not anytime soon,” she clarifies through a fit of coughing.
“You good?” Carlo rubs a hand up and down his wife’s back.
“Uh-huh.” Antonia nods, her cheeks now glowing red.
“And I’m getting cousins from Uncle Louie,” Jazzy adds.
I look across to Charlotte. This is news to me. She shakes her head.
“Seems people have been busy,” Emmanuel says, taking the seat right next to mine. His hand lands on my leg under the table, and I shake it off without sparing him a look.
“You moving back to town?” Sammie asks.
“I might.” E shrugs. “If something keeps pulling me back here.” As he says this, I feel the heat of his stare on the side of my face.
Don’t look at him. Don’t look. Don’t look,I chant in my head.
I can’t do this. Dinner with his friends, like we’re a real couple.
You just asked the man to marry you. You are a real couple.The voice in my head pops up. I shove it down. I don’t need rational thought right now.
“What’s in the soup, Antonia?” Emmanuel asks.
“Vegetables,” she says.
“You don’t like vegetables?” he questions while eyeing her differently-colored soup bowl.
“They brought up carrot and coconut for Carlo. I swapped,” she replies with a shrug. “Carlo doesn’t like coconut.”
“I’m not that fond of vegetables.” Emmanuel reaches over the table and swaps bowls.
Now I do look at him. The man loves vegetables. I know. I’ve been forced to eat all kinds of them with him.
“Ah, I’ve already eaten some of it,” Antonia says.
“How much?” Emmanuel asks her.
“Just a little,” she tells him.
“It’s fine. I’m going to get myself a drink. Louie, show me where the kitchen is.” Emmanuel stands, taking his new bowl of soup with him.
Carlo shoves his chair back and follows Louie and Emmanuel out of the dining room. Odd. What the hell is his problem with that bowl of soup?
Sammie is the only male left at the table. “Any idea?” Antonia asks him.
