Page 20 of Mutual Discord

With a few swipes on my phone, I sent Alex a pin to El Coquí. As I waited for his reply, I considered why I wanted to invite him in the first place. Yes, Caitlin had mentioned that very first night that Alex wanted to connect with the Puerto Rican scene, but we hadn’t actually talked about it. And what did connect mean anyway? Was my curiosity about this the reason I extended the invitation?

Or did I just want to see him again?

A frustrated groan slipped past my lips and I covered my face with my hand. After this dinner date with Denise, I needed to create some space between Alex and me. It wasn’t healthy to want to see him simply to see him. Sure, he was the first guy in a long time—maybe since Jared, my ex—that I actually wanted to spend time with. Maybe it was because Alex actually listened when I spoke, instead of listening for an opportunity to speak himself. On the handful of dates I’d gone on since ending my relationship with Jared, I had never felt any sort of connection. Any sort of spark. They had featured surface-level chitchat, which was fair because they were first dates, but also, those conversations had never been as effortless as they were with Alex.

My best friend’s boyfriend.

“God,” I moaned aloud, gripping the steering wheel and pounding my head on it. I was allowing my friendship with Alex, and his relationship with Caitlin, to occupy my thoughts way more than was healthy. “He’s off-limits, Sof. Get that through your stubborn head.”

I glanced down at my phone when it vibrated in my lap.

Alex: Six at El Coquí. I’ll be there. Is there anything I should know about your friend?

Chewing on my lip, I forced myself to type out the words I didn’t want to share, in light of what we had discussed at Dulce’s.

Sofia: Her name is Denise and she’s friends with Caitlin, too. She also doesn’t know about the Matildas.

Dots flashed on my screen, and I continued to gnaw on my lip as I guessed what his reply would be. When it came, I exhaled. Just a little bit.

Alex: So don’t mention all the details I learned about Albert Einstein’s wife? Got it.

A rough laugh slipped up my throat, and my thumbs flew across the keyboard.

Sofia: Excuse me, but her name was Mileva Marić, and I know all about her.

Alex: Of course you do.

The smile that stared back at me in my rearview mirror as I backed out of my parking space lit my whole face.

—

Despite all my admonitions not to read too much into my interactions with Alex, I dressed for dinner with way more care than it called for. While I was tempted to wear the black jumpsuit I knew made my ass look perky as hell, I instead forced myself into a pair of high-waisted cotton shorts with a simple pink sleeveless silk blouse that complimented the gold undertones to my skin. I swept my curls off my face into a ponytail and slipped on a pair of flat sandals. In general, Phoenix was a laid-back city, and even club attire was more relaxed than many places I had visited. El Coquí was a casual dining restaurant, and my outfit would fit right in.

That still didn’t stop Denise from raising her brows when I walked through the door of the restaurant and greeted her.

“Wow, Sof, you look nice,” she said, her dark eyes scanning over my face and down my outfit.

“Gracias.” I extended my right leg to show off my sandal. “Remember when I got these that day we stopped at the outlets on the way back from Sedona?”

Denise studied my shoes. “Oh yeah, I forgot about them. They look good.”

“I think so. I don’t wear them nearly enough.”

“Well, tonight’s the perfect occasion for them.” Denise held my gaze for a moment and then looked toward the door. “Any idea when Alex will be here?”

I crinkled my nose. “Our reservation isn’t for another ten minutes. Just because we’re early doesn’t mean he’s late.”

“If you say so,” Denise grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest.

Sinking onto the seat next to her, I bumped my shoulder into hers. “How was the rest of your day? Work go okay?”

“It was fine. Just more bullshit with the migration to the new system, but I don’t want to talk about it.” Denise massaged her temples. “I just want a rum and coke and a plate of mofongo with some tostones on the side. Maybe a slice of flan to finish it off.”

“Ah, flan sounds good,” I said.

Denise nodded, sighing dramatically. My friend was usually even-keeled…unless she was hungry. She tended to be dramatic when she was hangry. “I was hoping they would seat us early, but—”

I had been sweeping my gaze over the dining room, noting that most of the tables were full, but I swung my attention back to Denise when she stopped talking. My friend was staring wide-eyed at the door.