Page 105 of No Greater Oblivion

“It gets worse.” I wave the baguette in the air. “Store-bought bread.”

Lyss tries and fails to catch her breath. “Be careful, he’s going to pop a coronary.”

“Ay, Dahlia.” Doña Ana tsks and shakes her head at me.

Technically, we have a dining room upstairs but it’s not often in use outside of parties and formal gatherings so I turned one of the downstairs dens into an informal dining room. Since the space bleeds seamlessly into the kitchen, it makes setting the table for dinner almost effortless. Doña Ana puts out plates and utensils while Lyss gathers up bottles of wine and several glasses. I guide Alejandro through the cabinets in search of serving dishes and with so many people running between rooms, the house descends into chaos.

Lyss knocks over a shelf in the pantry, Alejandro almost sets fire to his apron, and I think Doña Ana got the regular spoons mixed up with the serving spoons because next to Alejandro’s plate is a utensil almost the size of his palm.

Alejandro forces everyone to sit down so he can serve us but not before Doña Ana takes a moment to say Grace. Lyss sets up the speaker on the credenza with her phone attached. Everything from seventies classics to Salsa hits and modern pop songs fill the room but it matters very little. Not much can be heard over all the shouting and laughter. Without meaning to, we all fall into deep conversation and never re-emerge.

“And the necklace just poof! Lit up!” Lyss exclaims while tugging on the pendant around her throat. “It was the coolest thing ever.”

“What else can it do?” Alejandro asks.

“If you’re trying to find someone you can use an app on your phone to make the pendant sing, vibrate, or ring.” I explain and tug the necklace out from under my turtleneck. “It’s actually pretty cool. Only problem is, it won’t work if you forget to charge it at least once a week.”

“Dahlia once forgot to charge hers for a month and when she did, she must’ve used the wrong wire because when she plugged it in, the outlet burst.” Lyss gives a firm nod. “Almost electrocuted herself, mhm. Can’t bring her anywhere.”

“Hey!” I wave a finger at her. “Not my fault. I hadn’t finished renovating the kitchen yet and those outlets were old.”

“That’s nothing compared to the time she almost burned our house down.” Alejandro says.

“What do you mean she almost burned the house down?” Lyss shrieks.

I groan and cover my face with my napkin, sinking deep into my seat with one of Alejandro’s arms wrapped around me as he laughs. “I specifically told her not to leave the rice unattended.”

“Okay but I didn’t!” I whine in protest.

Alejandro ignores me. “I’m maybe two floors up in my office on a call with my grandfather when all of a sudden this horrible smell starts filling the halls.”

“He’s exaggerating,” I announce to the table. “It really wasn’t that bad.”

“Dahlia, corazón,” Doña Ana says gently. “Podían olerlo quemándose en China.”

Lyss descends into a fit of hysterical laughter as Alejandro continues the story.

“So I go downstairs and of course, no one is in the kitchen. Why?” he pauses for dramatic effect. “Because someone thought it would be a good idea to take the lift up to the third floor.”

“Wait!” Lyss wails between laughs. “The haunted one?”

“And she got stuck. Thank God the lift only took her a few feet in the air because Diego and I had to pull the car down ourselves. It’s over a hundred years old.”

“Everyone at this table is judging me because you are forgetting one very important detail.”

Alejandro smiles at me as he asks, “And what’s that?”

“I made sure to turn down the heat on the rice before taking a ride on the haunted elevator!”

“Yes, I’m sure you did, mi amor.” He brings my face forward and kisses my cheek in a gesture so natural I almost forget he shouldn’t. “You were very responsible before getting into the death trap.”

“You know what, I refuse to be disrespected in my own house.” I pick up the knife and cut into the apple pie from the bakery, ignoring Alejandro’s homemade flan. I use my fork to take a massive bite. “This is way better than your flan.”

He groans as if shot and makes a dramatic show of leaning over the chair, clutching his chest and the imaginary bullet wound I left there.

“Que exagerar.” I roll my eyes.

“Oh!” Lyss jumps up from her seat. “We need more wine!”