Page 111 of Desperate People

I shake my head and reach for my phone.

No. That’s not right.

That’s not us—or at least, I don’t want it to be.

I’ve been accused of playing games before.

Of acting aloof.

Of being manipulative.

And I hated it.

All I ever wanted was to be understood, to be safe in my own skin.

And now that I have a husband who actually sees me? Who might actually be as into me as I am into him?

Well, I simply refuse to start playing games now.

I can’t start hiding things from him.

Not even something like this.

It feels sneaky if I don’t tell him right away.

So I open a new message and start typing, completely aware that all three of my cousins are leaning over to read along.

Me:

Hey, So I wanted you to know the girls are here, and the food came. It’s every bit as good as you said so thank you for that. Also, you should know someone sent a delivery of flowers to me congratulating me on our wedding. They’re from El Tigre.

* * *

My fingers tremble when I hit send.

For a long moment, the text just sits there.

Unanswered.

Then the three dots appear.

He’s typing.

My heart climbs into my throat.

Husband:

I’ll be there in ten minutes.

“Wow. That was fast,” Aella says, wide-eyed.

Clementine lets out a low whistle and pops another empanadilla into her mouth like she’s settling in for a show.

“Are you kidding? The security guard probably called him the second that delivery truck pulled up.”

“Well, I think that is something you two might need to address alone,” Andrea says and everyone rises.

She’s right. And after I walk them to the door, apologizing for the craziness that is my life, I promise we will get together soon.

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