Page 33 of Fighting

“Shit stirrer,” I balk, imagining a world where I exact revenge by mixing Nair in her shampoo.

I couldn’t, though. I love her too much.

With a sigh, I gently spin my mug on the tabletop. “Hmm. Let’s see. He’s still annoying, but Satan is worse. That man is creepy. Matty and I are working on the festival together anyway, so we thought maybe we could scare Satan off by letting him think I’m spoken for.” Head tilted, I shift in Lily’s direction. “Speaking of which, can I go over things for the studio and The Featherweight with you while I have you? Would love to check those boxes.”

“Remember last year when River visited me in Vermont? Before things started with us for real?” Lily beams.

Perfect. Delia surely has more questions, but they’ll have to wait. Lily is in control of the conversation again.

“He and I agree that fall in New England is so romantic.” She clasps her hands in front of her. “We want to do it again, but the right way. Anyhow, we’re going up for a few days and plan topick up a ton of fresh syrup. Which means the Maple Porter will return to the menu.”

I waggle my brows. “Bring me some extra, and we’ll do a big brunch soon.”

“You got it!” She taps something in her phone, then flashes the screen, showing a note that readsbring back extra syrup for Nessaon the multi-day Vermont Trip line.

“Jim said that the folks from Harebrained Helpers are going to have a flock of adoptable pets for us,” I tell Delia. “Apparently, a new volunteer didn’t check the tags when putting some of the bunnies back, and they multiplied, you know, like rabbits. Could we hold a few overflow pets here before the event?”

Before she can answer, an alarm blares, interrupting us.

Lily taps her phone’s screen, silencing the ear-piercing sound. “Gotta run.” She stands. “And in case you planned to ask me about housing animals next, I’ll pass. Pete would likely not take well to sharing his space. But maybe there’s space at Stef’s? Ask Mateo.”

I stand and sink into her embrace, so grateful for my framily.

I love my siblings, but the kind of sisterhood I share with my friends is special in so many ways.

“Thanks, Lils. If we need the space, I’ll be sure to check.”

My smile may be a little too bright, but thankfully she’s got her face buried in her phone as she shuffles to the door.

Once the door snicks shut behind her, Delia laughs and shakes her head at me.

“What are you going to do now?” She’s definitely both entertained and afraid.

I smirk. “Well, we’re co-chairs. He’s got a responsibility to help with anything he can. Seems like a reasonable thing for a man living alone to help with, don’t you think?”

“You wouldn’t be going to this much trouble if you weren’t enjoying it.” Brows lifted, she peers at me over the top of her mug.

I mimic the expression. The staring contest goes on a bit too long and I “accidentally” graze her leg, hitting that spot that makes her laugh. Boom, winner.

“Whatever you say, D.” Looks like I need to email Jim and the head of Harebrained to follow up.

She huffs a laugh. “Sure.” She elongates the word, then says, “This is all an act, for Caleb, who isn’t even around right now. Whatever you say.”

I wave her off, having moved on to thoughts of what I’m going to say to Jim. Oh, yes, Jimmy, ole boy. I have the perfect place to house those animals. My “boyfriend” has loads of free space. I’ve got to make sure people believe we’re in this together, of course.

Saturday afternoon,I walk up to Mateo’s house and find an unfamiliar car in the driveway. He’s outside, wearing a pair of dark gray chinos and a deep plum–colored button-down. He’s walking my way, doing that key swinging thing, charming me and irritating me in equal parts with his swaggering entrance. He needs to stop approaching me like every encounter is some sort of movie moment.

“Think fast, Ivy.” He launches the keys at me.

Though I flinch, I manage to catch them. I look down at the series of interlocked rings engraved on the key fob, then peer back at the forest green convertible.

“New car?” I frown.

“Nah. I pulled it out to make space in my garage and figured you could drive it while you figure out what to do about your busted one. I love being your chauffeur, but this way you don’t have to rely on me all the time. You deserve reliable transportation,” he says.

He uses one hand to rub the back of his neck, a nervous tick, but his eyes are glowing.

In quick succession, butterflies take flight in my stomach, but in a matter of heartbeats, they plummet, and dread takes over. An extravagant gift like this could be a trojan horse.

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