“Jesus, I turned back around, okay?”
“I’m not the one trying not to get caught.”
“I looked to see who came in when the door opened!”
“Look.” She glances down into her drink. Thalia is…blushing? “You can’t stare at her with your tongue out like a cartoon skunk if you want to keep whatever this is a secret.”
“I wasn’t?—”
“Javi, I justwatchedyou. It was gross. Kinda sweet, but gross.” She takes another drink. “And maybe trust me on how to not get caught fucking someone you shouldn’t?”
I’ve got about ten responses for that, but I end up going with, “I like how you told Madeline you and Caleb met in college.”
Thalia grimaces. “It’s technically true,” she says. “We were in a college.Don’t.”
“I wasn’t!” I say, pretending like I wasn’t going to turn around again.
“You have to give it at least thirty seconds, and you have to make anormal face.”
I maintain eye contact and flip my sister off as subtly as I can.
She snaps her fingers. “Pepé Le Pew!” she says. “That’s the cartoon skunk’s name.”
“You’re the worst sister in the world.”
“I like her dress,” Thalia says. “You think it’s vintage? Maybe it’s vintage. It’s cute. Ooh, she’s meeting the aunts. I think she just told Alma she likes her necklace. It does match her hair. Madeline’s, not Alma’s.”
“I don’t need a play-by-play.”
“Now she’s getting nice-to-meet-youhugs. What a lovely young woman this Madeline is.”
“Are you done?”
“No. Now she’s laughing politely at?—”
I don’t need my sister to tell me Madeline’s laughing at something because I can hear it, the specific way it bubbles out of her and bursts through the room, rising above everything else.
“Thank you,” I say and stack my empty cup into the empty cup in her hand and turn to go say hello like a completely normal person.
The secondI make eye contact with Madeline, she smiles, and I grin like an idiot. For half a second, I go to kiss her before suddenly remembering that the rest of the world still exists—for example, my aunts who are allright thereand watching every second of this unfold—so instead of giving her a kiss I manage a whole-body twitch that I try to cover up by offering a handshake.
Only, as I do that, Madeline tries to go in for a hug, and then we both laugh, and she goes for the handshake and I go for the hug, and when we finally manage to do some sort of greeting that’s half of each, we’re both bright red and trying to play it off like it’s nothing.
From the corner of my eye, I can see Bastien over by the wine, rubbing his temples.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
MADELINE
If Javiand I don’t manage to act completely normal when I get to the certainly-not-a-bridal-shower event, at least we act too awkward for anyone to think we’re fucking. Or…fucking with benefits. Is that what you call it when you’re fucking and also having frequent conversations that aren’t about the fucking? I mean, in theory we’re not fucking right now, except when we accidentally have phone sex while I’m at someone else’s house, because we’re waiting until after our parents get married to resume fucking, at which point I believe we’ll also start dating. Which we obviously aren’t doing yet—we’re just fucking sometimes, talking a lot, not seeing anyone else, and sometimes, secretly, at least one of us is wondering whether our boss would care if we moved across the state even though that is putting the cart about ten miles before the horse.
I would like the record to show that this morning I fully planned on following through with our (renewed)not until after the weddingagreement. I even went to an eight o’clock yoga class to work out some energy and frustrations, and during the part at the end where you lie on the mat and think about your day, I even set the intention to only interact with Javi in a G-rated manner.
Unfortunately for my intention, it’s been a month since I last saw him and today he’s wearing slacks that fit him very well and a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and I’m not made of stone.
“Hey,” is the brilliant, witty thing I manage to say when we finally disentangle from our far-too-polite hug, during which I didn’t press my entire body against his the way I want to. “Haven’t seen you in a minute.”
God, who let me interact with attractive people? I’ve still got my hand on his wrist, and I can feel the tendons flexing. It sends a tingle down my spine, but I can’t make myself let go.
