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“When did you set up the fare watcher?” May asked.
“Hm? Oh. I don’t know, a while ago?”
“Did you fly out of Milwaukee or Green Bay?”
“Milwaukee.”
“To La Guardia or JFK?”
“Newark.”
“You got a seventy-nine-dollar screaming deal on a fare from Milwaukee to Newark?”
Allie hadn’t swallowed the first half of the muffin yet, but she didn’t see any choice—she shoved the whole of the rest of it into her cheek pocket and nodded, her eyes wide and innocent.
She watched May and Ben exchange a look.
Oh, fuckity.
She didn’t know how, but May and Ben just fit. May should have fit with her last boyfriend, Dan Einarsson, an actual Green Bay Packers quarterback. May looked like a football wife, even. Tall. Blond. Stacked. Her braces had produced three yards of white, Chicletlike teeth, whereas Allie still had to wear a retainer at night to keep her bottom teeth from collecting like dice in a Yahztee cup. Except May had been miserable with Dan, for years and years. Until she met this miserable New York chef who glowered and huffed and just happened to look at May like she was a four-pound white truffle or something.
Allie was afraid of their love and its silent mind-meld telepathy.
“No way you paid eighty to fly into Jersey.” Ben put down a pile of bacon on the little table between her and May. Then watched her with that furrow between his eyes while he expertly drizzled some kind of sauce on it.
“Yep. What’re you putting on there? Something delicious, I bet.”
May and Ben looked at each other. Ben didn’t look at Allie. “Maple reduction.”
“That’s so funny, since maple’s already a reduction, you know? From sap.” Allie grabbed two pieces and folded them in, burning every surface of her mouth. “Mm-mmmm.”
“She’s lying.”
“Ben, come on. Not now.”
“She is! Jesus fucking Christ, May.”
“Just, maybe go out for a bit.” May stood up and grabbed Ben’s shoulder, leaned her forehead to touch his. “I’m okay, babe. Seriously.”
“Take the bread out when the timer’s up.”
“You bet.”
Ben stalked to the door, giving Allie one last glare, which Allie answered with a cheerful thumbs-up. “Thanks for breakfast, Ben! Best ever!”
Ben slammed the door.
Allie knew she was in trouble. So much trouble. Real trouble. Lying to May, her big sister, was the worst ever. Knowing that May knew she was lying was complete hell. Dropping in for Monday brunch at her sister’s Queens apartment without notice, and lying—Allie seriously considered running away.
But she couldn’t be certain Ben wasn’t lurking in the stairwell, ready to attack.
“The thing is, Allie, I’ve gotten, like, ten texts from Matt asking where you are. He had some question about the dogs and went by your place and you weren’t there, and you hadn’t picked up your mail, and he said you always did. So then he dropped by and asked Elvira where you were, and she said you’d flown to New York. Yesterday. Yesterday morning, Allie.”
Allie was having a hard time thinking past her anger after May said Matt, her ex, had texted her sister ten times. The anger made her whole brain go blank. She didn’t have access to the higher parts of her brain she needed to answer any of the rest of what May was asking.
“Matt has no business…” she managed.
He did this all the time. All the time. Dropped in at her mom’s house for lunch. Stopped by Elvira’s and grilled her about Allie’s finances. Texted her, texted her parents, texted her friends.
