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“Then what are you doing here?”
“We, uh, got kicked out on accusations of card counting,” he admits sheepishly.
Brynn crosses her arms in front of her chest, her eyebrows set in a stern frown. “And were you?”
“Dale was testing out the prototype for the Ocular 09X smart glasses to see if they can really predict the probability of hitting twenty-one in blackjack.”
“Isn’t that just geek-speak for card counting?”
“That’s for Dale’s lawyer to determine. But probably. For the record,” he says, raising his hand like he’s being sworn in on the witness stand. “I had no idea. Brice and I don’t gamble, so we were at the buffet eating our weight in shrimp. But since our rooms were at the hotel, when Dale got kicked out, rather than look for a new place to stay, it seemed easier to come home. To the apartment. Where Ilive,” he said pointedly, casting a glance in my direction.
Now it was Brynn’s turn to look sheepish. “Yeah, about that…” She turns to me with the same doe-eyed expression that used to make it impossible for me to stay mad at her when we were kids. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that Ethan lives with me. But I was worried you’d think we didn’t have enough room for you to stay with us, and I didn’t want to give you an excuse to change your mind about coming. But… I should have told you.”
She looks so earnest and apologetic, I can’t help but smile. “It’s fine. Honestly. It’ll be just like the old days when we used to have sleepovers at your house.”
“Uh-uh. No way.” Ethan shakes his head. “You’re not painting my toenails in my sleep again. I have a guard dog now. Right, Wilson?”
Wilson nuzzles my leg with his head, and I scratch behind his ears. “I don’t know about that. He might be my ally now,” I say with a laugh.
“Traitor.” Ethan makes a face at Wilson, but the gigantic lapdog merely rolls over, offering his stomach for tummy rubs. I happily oblige.
“If he’s been disloyal to anyone, it’s me.” Brynn sinks onto the floor by the couch and snuggles her face in his neck. “You’remydog. I named you. But instead of keeping my feet warm at night, you sneak off to Ethan’s room, don’t you? Don’t you?” Her voice is suddenly two octaves higher, and Wilson licks her face, clearly a pro at playing the field.
“Where did his name come from?” I ask, reaching for my hot chocolate.
“Brynn’s celebrity crush,” Ethan says with a chuckle.
“Owen Wilson?” I hazard a guess.
Ethan only laughs harder, and I glance at Brynn in confusion.
She shoots her brother a playful glower. “I named him after Frank J. Wilson, the accountant who helped catch Al Capone. And for the record,” she says, matching Ethan’s tone from earlier, “forensic accounting is way sexier than all thatDie Hard, Jason Bourne nonsense you watch on TV.”
“I’ll be sure to let Vin Diesel know he should play an accountant in his next action movie role,” Ethan teases. “Maybe they can have a harrowing montage with clips of him poring over general ledgers and bank records.”
They quibble over the topic for a few more minutes while I listen in amusement. Although they’re bantering back and forth, there’s no malice in their voices. No condescension. No antagonism of any kind. It’s lighthearted and quite sweet, actually.
From the moment they moved three houses down from ours when I was in the second grade, I’d been fascinated by their family. Their parents reminded me of a couple you’d see on a 1950s sitcom, except instead of sugary sweetness and corny puns, they doled out a healthy dose of playful sarcasm. But the truly remarkable thing—rather than picking on Brynn, Ethan always looked out for her, and then me by extension. On Brynn’s first day at school, a clique of mean girls wouldn’t let us sit at their lunch table. They were so cruel about it, mercilessly making fun of our clothes and hair, that Brynn started to cry. Ethan—who was three grades older and had already been accepted by the popular crowd—marched right over, put a hand on our shoulders, and led us to join him and his friends. After seeing us eat lunch with fifth graders—and the “cool” kids, no less—no one dared bully us again. That might have been the moment my hopeless crush first began.
“So, what do you two have planned for tomorrow?” Ethan asks, interrupting my trip down memory lane.
“First, we’re going shopping,” Brynn announces as she reaches for one of the marshmallows. “Then, Quincy has a date.” She pops the marshmallow in her mouth, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
“A date?” Ethan chokes on his hot chocolate, and it dribbles down his chin. He wipes it off with the back of his hand. “Didn’t you just arrive today?”
“Yes,” I say, about to defend myself, but Brynn butts in.
“We arranged it days ago!” she squeals, bouncing on her heels in her excitement. “I set her up on the new dating app everyone’s raving about.” Ethan stares blankly, so she explains. “It’s called Spin. It was created by the founder of Puzzle Pieces, the dating app your friend Dale used to meet Hannah. It utilizes the same pairing algorithm but has a quirky twist. You know how everyone always goes on a boring first date like drinks or coffee? Well, with this app, once you find a match, you spin this electronic wheel, and it randomly selects an activity for your first date. It’s super fun. LikeWheel of Fortune, but instead of winning cash, you win love.”
Ethan openly scoffs, and I sip my hot chocolate, not wanting to get in the middle of it. To be honest, I think it sounds as ridiculous as Ethan does, but I hate to squelch her enthusiasm. Especially since nine years ago it was her idea to make online dating one of my Christmas Commitments. Though it had been an ill-advised attempt to reconstruct my badly broken heart, I think she’s finding personal satisfaction in finally seeing me cross it off the list.
“So, who’s the lucky guy?” Ethan asks me.
But once again, Brynn can’t help herself. “His name’s Sebastian. And he gives off dreamy Clark Kent vibes.”
She’s positively beaming, and not for the first time, I wonder why Brynn didn’t keep him for herself. He seems exactly her type. Tall, lean, and impeccably dressed in a sharp business suit and slicked-back hair with the most even side part I’ve ever seen. But when I mentioned that they’d make a better match than he and I, she got all squirrelly and evasive on the phone.
“Sebastian?” Ethan raises his eyebrows. “Like the crab inLittle Mermaid?”
