“I had it custom-made,” Maya says proudly. “There’s one of Noah too. I was going to save it for Christmas, but then I decided that was too much emotional discipline for one person, so it’s somewhere in the pile.”
“Of course it is,” I say.
Mom gives me a suspiciously innocent look. “Your father and I may have already ordered Pumpkin’s Christmas present.”
I stare at her. “Mom, it’s August.”
“She’s very hard to shop for,” Mom says.
“She’s a dog,” I say, trying not to laugh.
Dad clears his throat. “There may also be two backup presents.”
I look between them, delighted and offended in equal measure. “You people are ridiculous.”
My parents both start defending themselves, claiming they’re being practical, actually, and while I’m still trying not to laugh, I catch Connor leaning toward Maya, his mouth close to her ear.
He whispers something, and she nods, her expression shifting from playful to serious in an instant. Connor jerks hishead toward the kitchen, and Maya sets down her wine glass before following him.
Something twists in my stomach—not quite worry, but a sharp little flutter of curiosity. Connor and Maya have grown close over the past year and a half, but they don’t usually have secret conversations at family gatherings.
“What’s that about?” Dad asks, noticing the exchange too. He gets up from the rug and sits next to Mom on the couch.
“No idea,” I say, trying to sound casual while straining to hear any snippets of conversation from the kitchen.
I can’t make out actual words, just the low murmur of Connor’s voice followed by Maya’s lighter one.
Mom gives me a knowing look. “You’re terrible at hiding when you’re anxious, Noah.”
I immediately try to relax my face, which probably just makes it worse. “I’m not anxious,” I lie. “They’re allowed to talk privately.”
But just as I say it, I feel my face heating up.
Before I can defend myself, Connor and Maya reappear from the kitchen. Maya looks…emotional? Her eyes are suspiciously bright, and she keeps glancing between Connor and me with this weird little smile. Connor looks even stranger—his face is doing that thing where he’s trying very hard to appear normal and failing spectacularly. His ears are red, which only happens when he’s extremely stressed or extremely turned on, and since we have company, I’m assuming it’s the former.
For a second, I wonder if they’ve planned some birthday surprise for me, but that doesn’t explain why Maya looks ready to cry and Connor looks like he’s about to pass out.
“Everything okay?” I ask, my eyes darting between them.
“Yep!” Maya says, too brightly. “Just catching up.”
Connor nods a bit too enthusiastically. “Yes. That.”
They are the worst liars I have ever met.
I narrow my eyes at them, but before I can press further, Connor clears his throat.
“Noah…”
He trails off, looking nervous in a way I rarely see him. Connor is usually the calm one in our relationship, the person who holds the ground still when my anxiety kicks into overdrive.
My stomach does a weird flip, as if I’ve missed a step going downstairs.
“Connor?” I prompt when he doesn’t continue.
He seems to pull himself together, shoulders straightening as he walks over to me.
“Noah,” he says again, and something in his voice makes my heart start racing. “Can you stand up for a second?”
