Both Emmett and Harry whirl to face Millie, bug-eyed. “Seriously?” Emmett squawks, his surprise quickly morphing to excitement.
I step beside Millie with one arm around her shoulder and one hand raised to calm everyone down.
“Guys, no,” I say shaking my head. “I don’t know what Abuela is talking about but—”
Abuela pokes a gnarled finger at us.“Anoche soñé que ustedes cinco entraron así como acaban de hacerlo…”
“Last night I dreamed,”Mami translates for Millie and her family,“that the five of you walked in like you just did…”
“Y Millie llevaba una camisa morada como esa,”Abuela says, pointing at Millie before pinching the fabric of her blouse between her fingers. The hair on the back of my neck stands at attention.
“And Millie was wearing a purple shirt just like that,”Mami delivers, nodding to the purple top that Millie is wearing. At her words, Millie’s spine straightens beneath my arm.
Abuela holds her hands out in front of her, making the universal shape of a pregnant belly. “Pero su vientre estaba creciendo con un crío dentro.”
Aunt Luci clucks her tongue and gives Abuela an exasperated look. “That doesn’t mean anything.Eso fue solo un sueño.”
“¿Solo un sueño?”Abuela throws up her hands.“¡Era una señal de los ángeles!”
Aunt Luci rolls her eyes. “A sign from the angels? Really, Mami,” she mutters, not bothering to reply in Spanish.
Abuela thrusts an emphatic hand toward Millie. “¡Solo mírala! Ella está brillando!”
The gaze of every woman in my family lands on Millie.
“She’s right. Millieisglowing,” Felicité murmurs.
I glance down at Millie. Sure, her face is flushed with the embarrassment of all this attention, but beyond that, she is radiant. Her vanilla ice cream skin has never looked so brilliant. Her blue eyes shine with an almost angelic gleam.
How could I not have noticed it earlier? She’s more beautiful than ever. By far, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Is the glow because—
“Millie?” My throat is so dry her name comes out a rasp. “Is there something I should know?”
She looks up at me dewy-eyed, her spice-colored lashes closing and opening like butterfly wings. “Well…” Uncertainty rings in the word. Something is on her mind, and she’s unsure about telling me.
I take in the ten pairs of eyes watching us, her family and most of mine in that number, and I make a decision.
“We aren’t doing this here,” I mutter, grabbing her hand.
Millie still has her purse slung over her shoulder, and I don’t care. Leaving the crowd of our families slack-jawed and lobbing questions after us in two languages, I drag her out of the kitchen, through the living room, and up the stairs. Two bedrooms flank the top of the stairs, Abuela’s and Alex’s. Passing both doors, I am for the third in the middle and throw the bathroom door open.
“Fucking God—Luc, what the hell?” Alex, shirtless and barefoot in jeans glares at me in outraged confusion.
I rear back and Millie gasps. “Sorry, I—“
But Alex’s gaze falls on Millie and his eyes light up. “Mattie’s here?”
“Jesus Christ,” Millie mutters under her breath.
“Yes. Go say hi. And give us some space, yeah?” I urge.
My brother is moving past us before I even finish my suggestion.
“But put a shirt on first,” Millie orders as he steps into the hall. She turns to me as he heads to his room. “One look at that, and she’d be—“
“Stop.” I hold up a hand. “Wipe that thought out of your head.”
Millie stares at me for a second. Then she gives me a sharp nod. “Right.”
