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He went on. “Neil did mention going to the track, but I don’t think I’m in the mood today. I just want to be lazy.”
“He’ll go without you,” I warned.
“Oh, believe me, I know.” He gave me another quick kiss. “I’m off, then. There is a guest bed that needs convincing rumpling. I’ll do that, and maybe head down to the gym for a morning run.”
He was such a liar. He was going to climb into that bed and sleep until eleven.
* * * *
“Mmm. This is so much better than mimosas,” I said with a happy sigh, setting my Hemingway Daiquiri back on the table.
“To being able to drink,” Deja said, lifting her glass of champagne. “And may I never breastfeed again.”
Holli had gotten us a reservation at Victor’s Café, a Cuban restaurant with the most amazing ceviche. The decor was incredible; a tall, airy ceiling crossed by wooden beams and gold-tinted light bulbs in glass jars flooded the dining room along with natural light from skylights. Ceiling fans with large paddles lazily churned the air around drapes of ivy and tall potted plants. The clink of silverware on plates and the low hum of conversation around us were oddly relaxing.
Or, maybe that was the daiquiri.
“So, what’s going on with your Mom?” Holli asked. “Where’s she?”
“She claims to be at church, but I don’t believe her,” I said, lifting a bit of salmon carnavale to my mouth. “I think she just wanted me to be able to spend time with you guys on my own.”
“Well, we hardly ever see you anymore,” Deja said. Then she quickly added, “Not that I don’t understand. You’ve got your stuff going on, just like we do.”
“Yeah, but you guys have way more going on. How are things at Mode?” I asked, taking another bite.
“Really good. We actually have Rihanna lined up for our May issue.” She did a little dance in her chair. “She came in on Monday and brought us all Fenty.”
“No!” I slapped my hand down on the table then ducked my head as other diners looked our way in alarm. “Why didn’t you lead with that the moment we sat down? And why didn’t you call me?”
“Because she doesn’t want to share the free Fenty,” Holli said with a laugh.
“You never told us how things went at Christmas,” Deja reminded me. “You survived the house of horror?”
“Yes. Barely.” I shivered. “I really, really hate that place.”
“I can’t believe you,” Holli complained. “You’re the one who always obsesses over Pride and Prejudice and shit.”
“This place is not like Pemberley, okay?” I was so misunderstood. “You guys have to come over there sometime and see it. It’s like the haunted mansion.”
“Wow, you’re really selling it,” Holli said around a mouthful of ropa vieja. “How can we resist?”
“Jesus, scarf that down, huh?” Deja said, only half-kidding in her admonishment.
Holli shook her head. “Sorry! I can’t get out of mom mode. I don’t usually get more than three uninterrupted minutes to finish a meal.”
Deja looked to me again. “Speaking of kids, you met El-Mudad’s?”
I wiped my mouth with my napkin, careful not to smear my lipstick. “We did. And it did not go as well as I would have liked.”
Holli looked crestfallen. “What happened?”
What hadn’t happened? “The worst thing imaginable. They totally figured out their dad’s relationship with us.”
Holli’s eyes widened in horror. Deja’s jaw dropped, and she uttered a tiny, extended, “No.”
“They’re teenagers. They’re more observant than he gave them credit for. And they knew what was up with their mom and dad and the woman her mom left him for.” That sounded so fucked up to me, but I couldn’t really know their family situation, and it was none of my business how they raised their kids. Especially when we had a very similar arrangement in the same house as Olivia. “They’re going to be discreet, though. They’re not vindictive or anything.”
“Thank God for that.” Holli reached for her water. “Loose lips fuck everything up.”
“I don’t think that’s how that adage goes,” I said doubtfully.
“How is that going to work with Olivia?” Deja asked, her brow crumpling in concern. “She’s not exactly fit for a top security clearance.”
“Yeah, tell me about it.” I rolled my eyes. I could get into the whole Valerie and Laurence and Neil thing later. Much later. “We’re being cautious. El-Mudad is our good friend who is living with us for a while. He has a room, and he gets up in the morning and goes to it, so she thinks he sleeps there.”
“She’s perceptive, though,” Holli warned. “I’m kind of convinced she’s a sixty-year-old, thrice divorced New Jersey real estate agent under all that youth.”
That was a pretty on-the-nose description of Olivia.
“If it did come out...how would Valerie react?” Deja asked.
I picked up my drink and considered. “How would Valerie react? She probably wouldn’t think anything of it. She knows all about Neil’s whole deal, so this wouldn’t shock her. Laurence, on the other hand...but I don’t want to get into that now. I don’t want to bring the whole brunch down. What are you working on, Holli?”
