While I’m doing all that, someone slings an arm around my neck.
“Yes,” Javier says, casually leaning against me. “Your parents are assholes, which I would know because I’m an expert. What other questions you got?”
* * *
Another while later,I’m sitting on a bench, facing away from one of the long tables and leaning against it, while Andi’s draped over my lap, one arm around my shoulders. She’s half-playing with my hair, and I’m sitting as motionless as I can, because we’re really not asit on laps in public coupleand if I move, she might realize what she’s doing and stop.
“So you’re Sprucevale’s Queen Victoria,” she’s saying to Silas, who’s sprawled in a chair opposite.
“Yes. Tons in common, me and her,” he says, waving his beer in asure, what the hellkind of gesture.
“At some point she was related to, like, two-thirds of the reigning monarchs in Europe,” his sister says from where she’s leaning against another table.
“I’m only related to you,” Silas says.
“You’re related to the brewery by marriage,” June explains very patiently, and then gestures at her very prominent belly. “And also via this guy, like, any day now.”
“Should you even be here?” Silas asks, eyeing her. “Are yousureyou don’t want a chair?”
“Yes, and where else would I be? I either sit around and wait at home or do it here, and here is way more interesting,” she says, and Silas sighs. June’s due date was a couple days ago, which I know because Silas has been kind of a basket case about it.
“I bet if you had the baby in the brewery he’d get free beer for life,” I say, and June looks thoughtful. Silas looks horrified.
“So your unborn child has an ownership stake in the brewery? Or did I miss something,” Andi says, getting us back on track. “Is there a line of succession?”
“I’m married to that guy,” June says, pointing across the room, “and his brothers own it.”
“One of whom is engaged to Wyatt’s cousin,” I say.
“Javi’s sister is also married to one of them,” June says. “Though not one of the brewery owners, a different one.”
“I’m pretty sure they’re just living in sin,” says Silas.
“How many of themarethere?” Andi says. “This feels like one of those brain teasers, like, ifJohn has a black dog and Tammy’s cat is not orange then what color is Reginald’s car?”
I pat her thigh a little above the knee. “I’ll make you a chart.”
“You know,” she says, turning to me, her fingers still twisting in my hair. “We’re probably, like, fifth cousins.”
“I really hope not.”
“Fifth cousins isn’t a big deal,” June says. “Just means you had a common ancestor in the early 1800s or so.”
“Still cousins,” Silas says, and June shrugs.
“Genetically speaking, it’s fine,” she says. “Actually, even first cousins isn’t a big deal so long as they don’t reproduce repeatedly over generations. That’s the mistake Queen Victoria made.”
“So don’t fuck your cousin,” I tell Silas, who sighs and rubs his face.
“Thanks,” he says. “Thank you for that great suggestion.”
* * *
I’m standingat the edge of the room, leaning against a wall and feeling a little hazy, when someone wraps themselves around me from behind.
“I hope that’s you,” I say.
“Or what?”
