Page 89 of All We Need

“Maybe they’re trying out a new business venture.Small-town restaurants can be very appealing.”Uneasefurls in the pit of my stomach, butIcan’t ignore the question sitting on the tip of my tongue. “Hey, do you know ifMartinWillishad any other kids?”

Mom looks puzzled at my sudden change in conversation. “Whatdo you mean?”

“I know he has a son from his previous marriage, but is that it?”

Her head tilts in thought before shaking it. “Gosh, he’s so private, butIdoubt it.Sincehis wife left, he’s kept to himself.Shewas sweet and taught third grade at the school.Idon’t know what happened between them, but one day she was gone, taking their son with her.Iremember him.Spittingimage ofMartin.”

Matching gray eyes, perhaps.

“Why do you want to know?” she presses.

“No reason,”Ireply way too quickly.Givingher my back,Irummage through the pantry. “Doyou have anypappardelle?Itwill go nicely with this sauce.”

“You should askAlessandraout.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

My siblings sayI’ma busybody, but my mother is a connoisseur of meddling.

“Ooooh, like a date?Dopeople make kissy faces on dates?”Andenters chief meddler:LottieSadler.

“There will be no dating,”Ideclare.

Lottie gasps. “Whoare you marrying?”

My hands fly to my sides. “Howthe heck did you come to that conclusion, you toad?”

The little deviltsksand uncurls her hand toward me. “That’sa swear.Dollarplease.”

“Is not,”Imumble but quickly pull out my wallet and slap a dollar in her hand, hoping it ends this conversation.

It doesn’t.

“We’re talking aboutAlessandra.I’mtelling yourUncleBoohe should take her out for a nice dinner,” my mom declares casually.

My mouth gapes. “Whatthe fu—”Lottielooks at me with dollar signs in her eyes. “—dge,Ma?Whendid matchmaking become your side hustle?”

She huffs. “Can’ta mother want to see her son happy?”

“Sure.VisitPatandGraham.Leaveme out of it.”Ipoint at the two troublemakers. “Now, both of you sit at the table.Dinneris almost ready.”

Thankfully, they leave me alone after that, and we chat aboutLottie’sfriends at school and what she wants fromSantanextChristmas.Shortlyafter we finish eating,Patrickarrives to collectLottie.Ihelp my mom with a few chores, say goodbye, and leave armed with aTupperwarefull of meatballs.

WhenIpull up outside my house,Ifind a text fromAly.

She-Devil: I hope you’ve kept your hands to yourself.

Booth: You’re a wicked, wicked woman.

She-Devil: If you behave, I’ll make it worth your while tomorrow night…

I make eight typos beforeIstring a coherent text together.

Booth: I’m listening. No touching whatsoever.

She-Devil: My place at 7.

I’m grinning maniacally.Lustsurges through my veins at a million miles per hour at the idea of being with her again.

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