Page 41 of Rum Sips and Salty Lips

He steps in front of me, having followed me into the kitchen, and places a hand on each of my shoulders. “Carina, we have everything under control.”

“I need to contribute. You said we were bringing sides. I have to get a side.”

“I have hummus and fresh guac from a local shop. One of my captains recommended it. I have enough for it to come from both of us.”

What?“I should at least bring chips.”

“I have plenty. Carina, you only need to bring your beautiful face.”

I look around my kitchen. “Plates. And silverware.” I should make a list for this. I start sweating as I think of everything that needs to be done.

“Haley brought reusable plastic ones.”

“I can at least bring a bottle of wine.” I point to my living room where I have a wet bar. I’m sure I have something already chilled.

“I doubt anyone will argue against that, but both Alex and Christian said something about enough rum punch to drown an army.”

“You talked to them?” This wasn’t planned with only Haley. This was a coordinated effort. I strain to take control of the situation as he follows me around, then steps in front of me to get my full attention.

“Yep, group text and everything.”

My phone is at my desk. Did I miss a notification? Can texts go to spam? My stomach turns in knots.

He intercepts me. “We didn’t include you on purpose.”

I knew it. My friends hate me. It’s fine. I’ll make new ones. Orion can leave, and I’ll head upstairs and cry in the shower.

I don’t move. His hand gently lifts my chin so I’m looking at him. “It’s a casual get-together. You didn’t need to be involved in planning. I thought it would be a fun surprise for you. All you need to do is show up.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You’re an over-planner. You would have made a spreadsheet?—”

“Then we would have everything we need.”

“We have everything. If we’re missing something, we’ll go to the store. It’s a few blocks away.”

“So, you don’t hate me?”

He rolls his eyes. “I might have to spank you for even thinking that.”

Don’t threaten me with a good time.

I don’t know how to respond to this. In the past, my friends have loved the effort I put into planning events. They would have jumped at the chance to let me take over.

And I probably would’ve neglected some work to squeeze it into my day, and then worked late into the night while someone comments on how effortless it was for me.

I walk to my living room and pick up an orange tree seedling I have on a windowsill.

He follows me, because of course he did. I hand him the pot. “Here. It’s a housewarming gift.”

He laughs, a sound so warm I want to drown in it. “Thank you.” He sets the pot on my coffee table and pulls me in for a hug. I inhale his scent.

“It’s the neighborly thing to do,” I say, clinging to his T-shirt.

“Of course. I’ll see you in a few minutes.” He releases me. I hate it.

As soon as he leaves, I run upstairs to my home yoga studio. It was the first space I renovated when the house passed to me. I replaced the bedroom carpet with hardwood, and mounted mirrors over an entire wall. I keep the lights off, letting the filtered sunlight from the window fill the room as I unroll my mat.

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