Page 61 of Caught Up In You

Well, that and the fact that Carson and Grace are sitting across from me at the bar. As soon as I got the text from Romy, I called in reinforcements.

“I hate that we have to do this here,” Grace grumbles as she stirs her Arnold Palmer. “As soon as the playoffs are over, my schedule is going to blow wide open.”

It’s been hard to get together with my friends lately. Grace has been jetting off to every playoff game she can to watch Decker try to win another Stanley Cup before he retires. She flies to Winnipeg tomorrow for Games 3 and 4 of the second round.

“It’s not all your fault. I’ve been going through the end-of-year death march of Field Day and parties and art shows. Kindergarten graduation is next Friday, and then I’m finally free!” Carson says, raising her arms over her head like she’s approaching the finish line of an ultramarathon. Then she points at me. “And this one here is so busy sneaking around with your brother it’s a wonder we see her at all.”

Grace squeals. “Yes! First order of business, how goes the…pineapple?”

I keep my eyes on the limes I’m quartering for later, when the rush hits. The muscles in my jaw practically cramp as I try to suppress a grin.

“It’s good.” From the way they lean across the bar, wide, nose-crinkling grins on their faces, I have a feeling I didn’t do a very good job keeping my voice even.

“Tell us everything,” Carson says. “Tell me all the dirty details. I want to hear about every orgasm.”

“Ew!” Grace grimaces as she leans back on her barstool.

“What? He’s notmybrother, and I’m so hard up a stiff breeze could make me come,” Carson says. “Do you know how miserable it is on the apps? I must have been a war criminal in a past life to be subjected to so many hoisted fish and dick pics!”

Grace shoots me a warning look. “Just, could you save the details for tomorrow, when there’s no chance I might overhear a single life-altering, brain-scarring detail about my brother’s sex life?”

“We have the spring carnival tomorrow,” Carson whines. “I have to bake four cakes for the raffle and bully three other teachers into volunteering for the dunk tank. Otherwise it’s going to beme, and I’d rather walk into traffic.”

Grace sighs. “Okay, how about this? I’ll go to the bathroom and set my timer for five minutes. You can spill as much as you want in that time, and then we can turn to purer topics, like how I’m already planning your wedding! I’m thinking backyard boho?”

Now it’s my turn to look miserable. “Come on, Grace. We talked about this,” I warn.

“I know, I know. I’m teasing,” Grace says, hands held up in surrender. “But I do want to hear about how things are going with you guys. You’ve both seemed so happy since the dance marathon. Owen came to family dinner this week and didn’t check his phoneonce. You can deny it all you want, but you two mean something to each other.”

I can’t suppress my smile.

“Iamhappy,” I say, savoring the idea that I makehimhappy like it’s a good piece of chocolate.

“Oh,blast,” Carson says, staring at the glowing screen of her phone.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

She sighs. “Yes, I was just desperately hoping my parents’ flight would be delayed, but it looks like they’re taking off now, which means I need to head up to Indianapolis to pick them up. They’ve been visiting my aunt and uncle in Boca for the last two weeks, and having the house to myself has been adream.”

“Still no luck with the apartment hunt?” Grace asks.

“I saw a listing last week that looked promising, but it turned out to be an unfinished basement with a mini fridge and a hot plate.” Carson drags her purse off the bar and hops down fromher stool. “I want those details, though. Next week? Thursday is the last day of school, so I’m free Friday.”

“If the Grinders don’t sweep Winnipeg, I’ll be in Chicago for Game Five,” Grace says. “So send prayers to the hockey gods.”

“I’ll be here, so whoever’s free and wants to hear about my orga—” I stop myself before the word—plural—escapes, but Grace squeals nonetheless. Then she mimes zipping her lips.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that because you’re my best friend,” Grace swears, and because she’s my best friend, I know better than to believe her.

Carson heads out to pick up her parents, and I brace for an interrogation from Grace. But then an unholy crash comes from the back, followed by a loud, low groan.

“Ernie?” I cry, dropping the knife and racing through the door to the back. I find him on his ass on the floor next to a keg, clutching his bad arm. “What happened?”

“I was just grabbing another keg of Blue Moon and the damn thing shifted,” he says, and that’s when I notice that his arm is hanging at a weird angle, the sharp point of his shoulder visible through his T-shirt.

“Oh my god, it looks dislocated!” I say, rushing to his side.

“Yep,” he says through gritted teeth.

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