Mia pounces on that idea instantly. “Yes. Send them to me.”
“Looks like I’ll be sitting out the next practice then,” Fable announces.
I shrug a shoulder. “I don’t know. Iwas pretty fucking convincing last time.”
“Language,” Mom scolds.
Fable tries to conceal her smile, but I catch the corners of it. That alcohol has gone straight to her cheeks. They’re practically glowing pink.
“Ohhh, do tell,” Bree says, leaning forward and perching her chin on her fist.
Fable side-eyes me. “I wasn’t participating in soccer time, because...reasons. Then your brother did the most annoying—”
“—ly adorable,” I interject.
“—thing.” She elbows me in the ribs. “He teamed up with all his unicorn-minions and they made a plan that if they acted like they didn’t know how to kick the ball, I’d get up and help.”
“And did it work?” Bree asks.
Fable rolls her eyes. “He was teaching them to kick the ball with thebottom of their foot.” She steals a handful of my fries, and I let her. “Of course it worked. He was embarrassing the both of us.”
Mia grins at me affectionately. “Well, what else is new, really?”
Fable pats my thigh, her expression dipping into something soft. “But did you see Ariana by the end? She really had the hang of it.”
“She was so proud.” I curl my hand around her shoulder, pulling her an inch closer.
In the back of my mind, I know I should stop touching her so much, but it’s like a compulsion at this point. I’m trying to rationalize it. Tell myself it’s normal to feel this way about her. She’s beautiful and kind and magnetic and soft in surprising ways. It’s bound to happen—this rush of... wanting. It’s growing in tendrils, reaching for any tiny bit of her it can get. It’s spinning around me so much I’m dizzy with it.
I’d hoped that spending time with her would quench my thirst for more of her, but it only seems to be multiplying. Iwantso much it hurts. Iwantin a way that’s treading dangerously close to something deeper than I’d planned, and I’m fighting a losing battle to put those thoughts back in the cage where they belong.
Mia sets her elbows on the table. “I heard we’re going house-hunting tomorrow.”
“Fabes and I are. Ididn’t inviteyou.” I give her the kind of withering smile specifically designed for siblings.
Her gaze narrows threateningly.
Leaning into Fable’s ear, I whisper, “Oh, she’s big mad. Look, her nostrils are flaring.”
Her hair tickles my cheeks as she laughs. “And that vein is popping out in her forehead, see?”
Mia tosses a fry and it hits me in the jaw. “Please, Theo. It’ll be like real-life Zillow creeping. Bree and I have been training for this for years—hours of time spent on that app when we weren’t even trying to buy a house.”
Bree looks wistful. “You remember that cottage in Scotland? I think about it all the time.”
“Yes.” Mia gasps patting her fiancée’s arm. “With the little garden in the back? We should look that up again.” She pulls out her phone and distractedly asks, “How many houses do you have lined up?”
Apparently, we’re bulldozing past her lack of invitation. “Cathy sent me two or three, I think.”
“Fuck’s sake, Cathy,” Fable and Mia chirp. We all look down the table to Logan, who takes a break from staring dreamily at Mabel to raise his beer bottle proudly in our direction.
Behind him, the main door opens, and my stomach knots when Arthur appears, strolling toward the hostess stand with his wife.
Things were busy at the clinic this week. Garrett and I have been working hard on the adopt-a-thon planning, and I got in touch with most of the rescues and shelters in the area. There’s going to be a big turnout if we can gather enough volunteers to help transport animals. Everything is looking really good, except that I’m on edge every time Arthur is around.
I feel like I’m putting on a show for him. Like this is all a performance, and it’s an unsettling sensation. I’ve never tolerated lying—it probably stems from my experience growing up but lying and secrets always make me uncomfortable. And this feels like the biggest lie I’ve ever told. I’m doing things I wanted to do anyway but doing them for this reason... it’s sitting weird in my stomach. Ican’t figure out how to come to terms with it.
“Let’s dance,” Fable says, standing and grabbing my hand.
