“Psst,” I whisper out the side of my mouth. “Cool it.”
Aunt Maddy giggles, waving her hands. “What I mean is, I wanted to meet someone from the Ashworth family. Even Ashworth family adjacent.”
I groan. “Can you not?”
Maddy ignores me, leaning in. “Did Jamie tell you we also do catering?”
“Oh my gosh, Maddy,” I cut through, “just leave.”
Christie giggles. “It’s cool. And no, I didn’t know you catered. I can just imagine the looks on the society ladies faces if we had a garden party with milkshakes on this level.”
Maddy winces. “No good?”
“I think it would make for a really fun party theme,” Christie replies.
“Well, we do more than just milkshakes,” Maddy says hurriedly. “We have a wide menu and can always create original dishes for the right event.”
“Aunt Maddy,” I groan. “Stop pitching. They’re not asking.”
Christies giggles again and Maddy pulls back.
“Okay, okay,” Maddy says, surrendering. “I’ll leave you guys to it. I hope you like the Salted Caramel Kettle Corn. It’s my favorite.”
“I’m a snacker,” Christie admits, “so I’m sure I’ll adore it.”
I sigh. “Sorry about her. She just gets excited and loses her filter.”
“Oh, please,” Ash says. “Have you met my mother? I’d take your aunt any day of the week.”
“She’s the aunt who looks after you?” Christie says with surprise. “Was there a big age gap between her and your mom?”
Awkwardness quirks across my face. “Four years. My mom had me when she was sixteen.”
Christie’s mouth forms an o as her cheeks sink. “Oh.”
“That would be tough,” Ash comments.
I shrug. “She was the best mom.”
Christie’s face brightens. “I’m glad.”
I gesture at the milkshakes. “We put in extra straws if everyone was to sample each.”
Christie takes a straw of the Banoffee Mess in front of her. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”
The corners of Ash’s eyes crinkle as he smiles at her. Goosebumps prick my shoulders. That’s how someone in love looks at their person.
Ash tries the Salted Caramel Kettle Corn and deems it a winner. My ears prick to a soft cheer of triumph from Aunt Maddy as she wipes down a nearby table. Christie can’t get enough of our last-minute entry, the Banoffee Mess. Overall, the milkshakes are deemed a success.
Inevitably, the boys fall back in physics homework talk on their side of the booth. Christie and I stay occupied with milkshakes as it becomes apparent we no longer have their attention.
“Sorry if I was weird back at school,” Christie said softly. “I kinda assume people don’t like me.”
“Why would you assume that?”
She shrugs, twisting a loose curl. “Just habit. Ash is always on my case about judging people before I get to know them.”
“I got the feelingyoudidn’t likeme,” I admit. “But that would make sense to me. All the pretty, rich girls can’t stand me.”
