“Here ya go!” Billie exclaims and puts two mushroom caps on a plate for me. “The best damn appetizer you’ll ever have in your whole life!”
Good God, sis. Chill out.
She shoves the plate into my hands and just stands there, watching me like a hawk.
I glance down toward her feet to find her dog Bailey doing the same damn thing. Although, I think his laser-sharp stare comes from purely selfish motives that involve him hoping I drop a few scraps onto the floor. When nothing falls off my plate, he grows too impatient to wait around, huffs out an annoyed breath and takes his opportunistic ass into the living room in search of someone a little clumsier.
“Lord Almighty, you are being so strange right now,” I mutter, but I take a bite before Billie starts trying to feed me herself. “Mmmm, delicious,” I say around a mouthful of mushroom, even though I haven’t even tasted anything yet. “Soooo good.”
She’s amped these fuckers up so much I feel obliged to act like they’re the best thing that’s ever been created.
“See?” she responds with a big, weird smile. “I knew you’d love them!”
Then she does the exact opposite of what I need her to do.
She grabs Andrew’s arm and yanks him into our little circle around the tray of mushrooms. “Try these,” she raves like a lunatic. “You are going to love them so much!”
This is the first time we’ve been face-to-face since Memphis, and the awkwardness is undeniable. It hovers over us like a freaking ominous thunderstorm. Our eyes meet, then flit away, then meet again, then flit away, and it takes my sister forcing a plate into his chest to break the cycle.
“Here ya go!” Billie says.
“Uh…” Andrew pauses and looks down at the plate.
“Take a bite,” my sister pushes and then looks over at me. “Tell him how good these mushrooms are, Birdie.”
I swear to God, if she says mushrooms one more time, I might lose it.
His eyes meet mine, his gaze a mix of confusion and uncertainty and other emotions I can’t discern.
“They’re pretty good,” I say, but I hate how damn uncomfortable my voice sounds.
“But how good? Like, tacos good?” he asks, and the slight teasing tone in his voice mixed with the memories that simple question spurs is too damn much for me to handle.
“Nothing is as good as tacos,” I respond in the name of not being rude, even though it feels like my chest might shatter into pieces. “And…um…if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be right back.”
“Wait…Birdie…” My sister tries to stop me, but I can’t stand here any longer pretending I care about fucking mushroom caps—that really aren’t that great, by the way. Or try to make small talk with Andrew, when just being in the same room makes me feel like I can’t breathe. At the moment, it’s hard to pretend anything when my heart wants to nose-dive out of my damn chest and onto the white marble floor of Luca and Billie’s kitchen.
“Be right back, sis. Just need to use the ladies’ room really quick.”
Without wasting any time, I walk away from the trays of food, away from my sister, away from Andrew, and head to the bathroom that sits directly off the kitchen.
I take my sweet time pretending to pee. I wash my hands, check my hair and makeup. And I give myself a good five minutes to just breathe through the discomfort that’s lodged like a heavy weight inside my throat, threatening to choke the life out of me.
You can do this. Just go back out there and make the best of it.
This will all be over soon.
Good God, I hope so…
Three hours into the party and I’m fucking drained.
Worn-out on making small talk and dealing with my sister acting all weird.
Tired of having to keep an eye out for where Andrew is in the house and avoid him at all costs, even though there’s a big part of me that wants to talk to him.
But I want to do that in private. Not right here, not in the middle of my sister’s party.
So, I’m just…done. And, truthfully, I feel like I’ve done my part. I came to the party. I smiled and made the best of it. I didn’t let my own personal shit with Andrew turn into some big blowout fight. I even tolerated my sister being all strange and amped up about the appetizers.