Page 174 of That Rush

Mom clears her throat. “I’ll mark Paige as a maybe for both and let you two conduct whatever negotiation is happening on that porch.”

“There’s no negotiation,” I say.

Paige looks at me. “Interesting.”

“Goodbye, sweetheart,” Mom says, far too amused. “Paige, I’ll text you the dates.”

“Perfect. Thank you.”

The call ends.

I keep my hand around Paige’s ankle. “Do you already have plans?”

“I don’t know. I have to check.”

“If it’s a library event, tell me. I’ll help.”

Her mouth curves. “That’s sweet.”

“And if it isn’t?”

“I still might have plans.”

“Then we’ll figure it out.”

She studies me, then sets her coffee on the table. “You understand I can also decide I don’t want to go.”

“Don’t you want to?”

“I haven’t decided.”

“It’s dinner at my parents’ house.”

“With your family.”

“You’ve survived them before.”

“I have even enjoyed them.”

“So what’s holding you back?”

“I didn’t say there was a problem. I said you should ask before answering for me.”

She says it calmly, without anger, and I hear the correction, but I also hear the unspoken ‘yes’—that she’ll come once she checks her calendar.

“I’m sorry,” I say again. “I assumed… we’re a ‘we.’ That family events are for us.”

She doesn’t look away. “I know.”

I slide my hand higher along her calf and draw her foot into my lap. “Next time I’ll ask.”

“Before or after you tell everyone yes?”

“Before.”

“Good.”

She leans across the space between our chairs and kisses me. It is brief, affectionate, and easy. The tension I didn’t know I was holding in my shoulders releases. When she settles back, her toes press into my thigh.