Page 81 of Sweet Heart

“Well, okay then,” she quips. “Are the ice queens continuing their standoff all night, or can we please, please, please get to that delicious-smelling dinner?”

I whip my head to the side, ready to berate her, when both Riley and Mary let out a loud laugh and nod ferociously. My mouth gapes as I am stunned by the temporary coup that is taking place in my own home until Mary wraps her arms around my waist and presses her lips against my cheek.

“Are you done?” she whispers playfully as she nuzzles my neck, and I grumble in reply.

This only makes her chuckle more and press her lips against my skin before stepping back and gesturing at the round dining table.

“Please, please, sit. Carmen, you have a drink, yes?” She lifts her glass in response, and Mary smiles. “Good. Riley, Celeste, what can I get you? Would you like to join us with some red?”

“Oh, that would be lovely. Baby, did you bring in the liquor?”

Celeste reaches for her tote and pulls out a bottle of Baileys, holding the neck effortlessly between her nimble fingers. Surgeon hands, as my mother would say. People with long fingers either end up playing the piano or cutting people open. I guess she is right about that. Celeste hands the bottle over to Mary, who accepts it gracefully, an amused frown on her face.

“That’s your drink of choice, right?”

For the first time since we met, Celeste’s voice carries something warm, uncertain almost, as her eyes lift from the bottle toward Mary’s. A part of me recognizes it, and I feel she is a lot more like me than I might care to admit.

“Ye—yes, but how did you…”

“At the fundraiser, you swapped the champagne out for this.”

I blink. When did that happen, and why did I not notice?

“You don’t like champagne?” I say more than I ask, but she shrugs regardless and looks at me sheepishly.

“Too much of it makes me feel queasy, and I don’t really like the bubbles.”

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“I only grabbed it because I thought you’d like it.”

“Really?”

“Claro que sí,” Carmen interjects before I can reply. “She prefers rum-based cocktails, like a true Cuban descendant.”

I roll my eyes at her and shake my head.

“I prefer Sazeracs, actually, but Old Fashioneds usually will have to do.”

“Oh.” Celeste sounds surprised. “Didn’t peg you for an absinthe girl.”

I don’t even know why I’m surprised that she is familiar with the obscure, but I find myself liking that she does.

“What is your pick?”

“Pornstar Martini,” she answers without missing a beat. “There is just something about passion-fruit-flavored foam that I like.”

Riley’s instant giggle gives away that there is an inside innuendo that the rest of us miss, but none of us press the matter. Not even Carmen.

“What about you, C?” Mary asks like she can already sense the upcoming brattiness in my best friend and knows how to rein it in.

“Cuba Libre, of course,” she beams proudly, and I snort.

“A Jack and Coke is not the same as a Cuba Libre, hermana.”

“Kindly, fuck off.”

I grin and let my eyes find Riley’s.