“Yeah,” Alix said, a little too quickly. “But in a good way. Like, the best kind. She makes you want to keep up.”
Connie studied her for a beat, eyes kind but sharp. “That sounds like someone who knows what she’s getting into.”
Alix felt her pulse tick upward. “Again, just friends. Grace is… well, Grace. She’s steady. Smart. The kind of person who makes everything around her feel intentional. You start to think more before you speak, just because she’s listening.”
Connie smiled again, this time softer. “That’s a good way to put it.”
They sat in companionable silence for a moment, the sound of laughter spilling in from the kitchen.
Finally, Connie leaned in a little. “I like you, Alix. You seem good for her.”
Alix blinked, unsure what to do with that. “That might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
Connie chuckled. “Don’t tell Grace I said it. I’ll deny everything.”
Alix laughed, relief and something warmer threading through it. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
By the time Grace returned, Alix’s plate was stacked like a leaning tower of food. She shoveled sweet, crunchy plantain chips into her mouth between conversations, her stomach growling happily.
Grace dropped into the chair beside her, cheeks pink, eyes a little glassy. She looked relaxed for the first time all day.
“You okay?” Alix asked quietly.
Grace nodded, smiling. “Yeah. It’s… actually kind of nice now. Everything feels floaty. Like I’m wrapped in bubble wrap.” She chugged her water, sighing in satisfaction.
Alix laughed, relieved. “You deserve bubble wrap. That sounds nice.”
Grace smirked but didn’t deny it. Her gaze flicked down to Alix’s plate. “How’s the food?”
“Incredible,” Alix said honestly. “Your mom is a genius. And it’s all vegan, isn’t that crazy?”
Grace’s brow furrowed. “Wait. What exactly did you eat?”
Alix rattled it off: Rice and beans. Yuca with mojo. Avocado salad. Plantains. Chicharrones.
“Chicharrones?” Grace repeated slowly, then her eyes went wide. “Oh my God. Alix. That was pork.”
The world tilted. Alix set down her fork, stomach suddenly lurching. “No. No, no. She said it was vegan.”
Grace buried her face in her hands. “I think her understanding of the word vegan was a little off. She always does this. She once told my college roommate that blood sausage was a vitamin supplement.”
Alix’s stomach gave a low, menacing growl. “I ate… so much.”
“And you’re still alive.” Grace rubbed her arm, voice soothing. “It’s fine. You didn’t know.”
“It was… really good,” Alix admitted in a whisper, horrified by her own honesty. “Like, insanely good. Am I still vegan if I liked it?”
Grace bit her lip, clearly fighting laughter. “You’re allowed one relapse on Cuban Thanksgiving.”
Alix groaned, dropping her forehead to the table. “Don’t tell Phyllis. She’ll hold a candlelight vigil and revoke my kombucha card.”
The more she thought about it, the worse her stomach felt. She’d been vegan for nearly ten years now, and the greasy heaviness sat in her stomach like a lead weight. Was she sweating? Were these the meat sweats?
She wanted to laugh it off, but the queasy churn wouldn’t let her. Her stomach gave a menacing noise, a warrior’s cry before charging headfirst into battle. Alix immediately worried about where that battleground might land her. She glanced around for any sign of the nearest bathroom.
Grace must have seen the shift in her face, because she leaned close, her voice low. “Do you want to go?”
“I’m fine,” Alix said. “We can stay.” Yes, her upper lip was sweating. She shifted in her chair, praying to whatever saint was in charge of intestinal distress.
