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“Someone fucking spare me,” Imani pleaded from Charlotte’s other side, pulling them from each other’s orbit with her unamused tone.

Lilah spoke next, yanking them back to earth. “So Ali, tell us more about you and your family. What do they do? What are they like? They should come for Thanksgiving!”

“Oh, um,” Ali hesitated.

A decade later, still no good way to approach the question without making everyone feel awkward or sorry for her. She hated it, the inevitable pity in everyone’s eyes.

Her throat dried out, insides knotting up.

“Delilah,” Charlotte warned, her hand dropping to Ali’s knee.

Lilah’s effervescent smile faded, replaced with stark confusion.

“What? What’ve I done?”

Silence fell around the table, all eyes now on Ali.

Her eyes darted toward the exit. She could run for it and avoid the inevitable discomfort barreling toward her.

The hand on her knee squeezed, grounding her.

“It’s okay,” she said, clearing her throat as she moved her hand beneath the table, grasping Charlotte’s, fingers lacing together as though it were second nature. “My dad was a doctor and ran his family’s practice after his parents passed. I suppose it’s easiest to describe my mother as an investor. She was quite good at it.”

Lilah winced, “Was?”

“They died,” Ali stated bluntly.

Imani muttered a quiet “oof,” tickling her morbid sense of humor. Another thing to love about Charlotte, she laughed at Ali’s jokes about dead parents and relatives. Jokes were amusing. Jokes were fun. But it was the pity… the “Oh, I’m so sorry.” The awkward shuffling and looks. Or a good old, “You poor thing.” Those set Ali’s skin crawling.

Charlotte never once pitied her, which she was eternally grateful for.

“My dad died when I was two and my mom just before my eighteenth birthday. They were both only children and their parents both died before I was born,” she stated, bracing herself for impact.

“Oh—I’m sorry,” Lilah stammered, eyes watering. “So you’re all alone?”

“For fuck’s sake,” Imani cursed under her breath.

Charlotte’s fork clattered against her plate. Lilah’s eyes went wide, mouth snapping shut as her own words played back to her.

Something about Imani’s responses drew her attention. She latched onto it and peered around Charlotte. Imani, mid giant sip of her wine, freezing beneath the weight of Ali’s stare. Ali gave her a knowing smirk.

“Are you also a member of the dead relatives club?”

Imani’s lips pulled back into a grin. “Dead brother.”

“My condolences. May he rest in peace,” Ali quipped.

Imani snorted. “Actually, he was a pain in the ass.”

“Ah, well then, good riddance.”

Everyone in the room seemed to be holding their breath. She and Imani stared at each other before they erupted into peals of laughter.

Charlotte shook her head between them, fighting back a smile. But once Lizzie’s bright laugh joined in, no one else stood a chance and laughter spread like wildfire around the table.

Lilah and Natasha, who didn’t quite understand, looked at each other and shrugged.

“We need t-shirts!” Lizzie cried, releasing another burst of laughter that had Sasha chuckling beside her.