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“You couldn’t come home for Christmas, but now you’re here twice in one month?”
I stretched my legs out as far as they’d go in front of me. One Christmas, and I’ll never live it down.
“I realized how much I miss everyone.” Which was true, but not necessarily the reason for my visit.
“Bullshit.”
My mother never minces words. And she’s always had a special radar for lies.
“Devon is at The Wheelhouse. It’s his birthday weekend.” Everyone in town knows the Atwood birthdays are legendary. Devon and Chari’s mom makes a bigger deal about them than my own parents do, which is saying something. “I’ll be home late and have to head back in the morning. Maybe we can all get breakfast at Mignon’s?”
The lakefront restaurant is known for their Sunday breakfast and brunches.
“My treat.”
Silence.
“Who is she?” my mother asked.
I’m not sure how she guessed—it certainly wasn’t anything I said—but she did. Maybe she just knows me. I didn’t answer her, not wanting to lie. Instead, I made an excuse to end the call and told her I’d see her in the morning.
I’m not here to tell Devon that I’m dating his sister—I know she wants to wait until after his birthday, which I get. And I intend to honor her wishes.
The almost panicked, deer-in-the-headlights look on Chari’s face says she doesn’t know if we’re still on the same page. She glances from me to Devon, eyes wide, and I shake my head ever so slightly to allay her fears.
“Happy birthday,” I say to Devon. “Long time no see.”
“I can’t believe you’re back. Did you text me?” Devon pulls out his phone.
“Nah, figured I’d surprise you.” I let myself glance at her again. “Hey, Chari.”
The tension between us is palpable. Can’t Devon tell?
“Twice in a month? To what do we owe the pleasure?” she asks, already knowing the answer.
When Chari jumps off the barstool, I hold my breath. The need to touch her is part of the reason I’m here. But I can’t greet her the way I want to, the way I need to—a hug will have to do. When she wraps her arms around me, I inhale the scent of her hair—vanilla and coconut—hugging her back. Just as I’m getting used to the idea of her in my arms, she pulls away.
“Hey, Enzo,” Lisa calls as the country music from the jukebox blares around us.
I’m definitely not in Manhattan anymore.
“Hey, yourself,” I say, trying not to stare at Chari.
“How long are you in for?” Devon asks.
“Just the night. Heading back in the morning.”
I see a few people staring at me, some edging in closer, but I’m not in the mood to talk shop—or to make nice with anyone other than my friends.
“I talked to Tris earlier,” I say. “He offered to host after-hours drinks at the bar as soon as we’re done here.”
DeLuca’s II stops serving at ten and closes the bar when everyone is gone. But there are perks to being the owner’s brother.
“Cool,” Devon says. “I’m ready for a change of scenery. Who’s driving? Time to take your pills.”
I look at Chari, who sends some special signal to Lisa.
“Got mine.” She holds up the white packet and opens it. “And my car.”
