Miriam’s fake lashes exaggerated her what-the-hell-is-wrong-with-you expression. They should have stayed at Sylvia’s. Thinking about sitting on the couch with Alix and a bunch of Chinese food, Grace relaxed her clenched fists. She would’ve endured being covered in Baby’s constantly shedding fur to be there. To be away from the noise and the attention. To be alone with Alix, she admitted, if only to herself.
“Hi, I’m Alix.” Alix’s voice caught Grace’s drifting thoughts and dragged her back to the present. The present, where Miriam’s brother Johnny had appeared out of nowhere.
Grace chugged her water, hoping it would speed up her body flushing out the mind-altering substance. Why the hell did people like to feel like this? Scattered thoughts and a complete inability to focus was a nightmare.
“So where did you two meet?” Johnny asked directly, coquettish grin on his glossy lips.
Alix snaked her arm around Grace’s waist, hand resting on Grace’s hip like it belonged there. At the touch, Grace relaxed. She leaned into her and rested her overworked nervous system.
“I joined this matchmaking service,” Alix replied without a hint of jest in her cool tone. “Some might call it a mail-order bride website, but that term fails to capture?—”
Grace bumped Alix with her side, but she couldn’t help chuckling. She glanced up at Alix, her slim cheeks flushed from the heat. “They’re going to believe you.”
“Tell them the truth, then?” Alix’s attempt at a somber expression was too adorable to sell.
Grace bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. She didn’t want to ruin Alix’s setup.
“We met while I was in prison,” Alix said, drawing a surprised but entirely delighted gasp from Johnny.
“Prima.” He put his hand to his chest and looked at Grace like she’d finally done something impressive in her life. “Was she your client? Did you have a torrid affair through iron bars?” He turned to Alix. “Were you in a jumpsuit?”
“Don’t be stupid,” Miriam said to Johnny while she raised her painted-on brows at Grace. “She gets access to a special little room because of attorney-client privilege.”
“Hot.” Johnny decided with a nod.
Grace laughed, body flushed with the most pleasant warmth. Without thinking about it, she slipped her arm around Alix too. It felt nice to stand with her like that. And why shouldn’t it? They were friends. Having Alix’s moral support was the whole reason she was even there.
“Hold up. Why do you know that?” Johnny asked his sister.
Miriam rolled her eyes at him but wouldn’t move off the trail. “Prison, huh? What were you in for?”
“We’re just friends,” Grace interrupted the inquisition.
“I get not wanting to jinx things,” Johnny said sympathetically. “Tia Connie might already be planning your engagement party, though. I think all her offerings to the patron saint of impossible causes have finally paid off.” He mimicked doing the sign of the cross over himself. “You’re not going to die alone and eaten by your cats?—”
“Well, she’s going to be very disappointed,” Grace said. “Why don’t you believe me?” She tossed her empty water bottle into the recycling bin.
“I don’t know. You’re just not usually like this.” Johnny gestured at where she was tucked into Alix’s side. “You’re giving, like, seventy-five percent lessget me your managerenergy,” he added like he’d been storing the jest in the pocket of his khakis for quick deployment.
Grace opened her mouth, but she couldn’t admit that she’d accidentally gotten high, and the only time she wasn’t freaking out was when touching Alix. They’d never let that go.
“Fifty percent,” Miriam disagreed. “Don’t get crazy. Her hair still wants to audit your taxes.” She narrowed her gaze. “It doesn’t believe your home office deductions.”
“What’s wrong with my hair?” Grace ran her fingers through her straight hair where it fell below her shoulders.
“Nothing, but like, have you changed it since you were twelve and forced to wear penny loafers?” Miriam replied.
“How long have you been holding that in? Any other burning opinions you want to share?”
“Actually, now that you asked?—”
“Hey, that dancing looks pretty cool,” Alix interrupted. “Is that salsa?”
They all turned toward the sliding glass door offering a view of the family room where furniture had been cleared to create a dance floor. By the quick side-to-side motions, Grace knew the moves even if she couldn’t exactly make out the high-energy song.
“Merengue,” Grace replied.
“Why don’t you teach your gringita how to dance?” Johnny suggested.
