Page 31 of Under One Roof

“Isabella?”

I wave my hand. “I took a stab at it. I feel like every girl is named Isabella or Amelia these days.”

“I do have two Isabellas in my classes,” Grace says. “But Logan likes Valentina.”

“Shut up,” he hisses, and I smile.

“Valentina? I love that name.”

“Me too,” he murmurs, and I could die at how cute he is when he’s embarrassed.

“Just be yourself,” I instruct. “That’s the best way to get someone to like you.” I point to Grace. “You too.”

She nods, and I sit back in my seat, feeling like I really did something today. I made a difference.

And as we finish our dinner with lots of laughs and conversation, I know we’ll be all right.

Chapter11

Andi

I’m in the middle of putting groceries away when Dahlia FaceTimes me. We haven’t talked in a few days, and I prop my phone up against the toaster before answering with my face close to the screen. “Where the hell have you been, loca?”

My best friend cackles with delight. “Hanging with a sparkly vampire.”

One of the things we often liked to do was play drinking games with movies. TheTwilightseries provided hours of drunken fun. Vic hated it, but he’d eventually give in and play with us. Two Christmases ago, I bought him a Jacob cardboard cutout. A few weeks later, he put it in my room in the middle of the night, and when I got up to pee, it scared me so bad, I went in my pants.

“I miss you and Vic,” I say, peeing my pants notwithstanding.

“I miss you too. How are you? Fill me in. Have you fucked the daddy yet?” she asks while making herself tea, and I snort.

“No. I told you. I’m not having sex with my kids’ dad.”

“That’s cute,” she says, arching a dark brow. “How you call them your kids.”

I toss the multigrain bread onto a shelf in the pantry. “What else am I supposed to call them? I’m taking care of them.”

“But it’s going good still?”

I texted Dahlia after my breakthrough with Logan and Grace, and while it’s only been three days, it feels like it might as well have been three months with how well we’re getting along now. Grace has taken to playing guitar like she completes her schoolwork, with single-minded focus and determination. Logan and I have played a round of basketball, and he’s been allowing me to wrap my arm around his shoulders as we walk back to the house after getting off the school bus. It’s not quite the cuddles I’m used to with Dahlia, but I’ll take it as a start.

“Everything is going great with the twins,” I say.

“And firefighter daddy?”

“I really need you to stop calling him daddy.”

“Why? Because you want to and need me to step off your man?”

I roll my eyes. “I can’t with you.”

She grins and pours her steaming water into the big mug I bought for her birthday a few years ago that readsMay you have the confidence of a mediocre white man. Then for my birthday, she bought me one that saysLittle Miss Doesn’t Get Paid Enough for This Shit. I have it downstairs, to hold all my loose odds and ends since I don’t think Griffin would like me adding it to the shelf with his oddly beautiful matching ceramic mugs. They’re stonewashed blue and brown and look homemade. My Little Miss cup wouldn’t fit with the vibes.

Moving on from her obsession with my boss, I ask, “You ready for the gig tonight?”

She nods, sipping her tea. “I was about to go over the setlist. Want to help me?”

“Of course.” I finish up with the groceries as we go back and forth on the best order of songs she’ll sing, a mix of covers and originals we wrote together. I wouldn’t consider Dahlia a powerhouse singer, but she has a throwback vibrato that always reminded me of 1960s rock and roll. When we first started jamming together, I convinced her to sing the classic “Hey Lover” by Daughters of Eve. It was one of Mimi’s favorites and the first song I learned to play. Incidentally, Dahlia still sings it. Brings the house down as her finisher. She has an interesting intersection of music: the history of Tejano, a love of folk-rock, and a dash of country because of me. Put it all together, she’s like a Mexican American Brandi Carlile. Not to mention one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever seen in real life with perfect bronze skin, black hair down to her butt, and the height of a supermodel.

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