Page 92 of Alphas Like Us
I lean my ass on the barstool. “He’ll most likely save it as his lock-screen.”
And then he’ll make an excuse about how it’s because I hate thepicture.
Oscar cuts a box open. “No, he’ll print that one out, Redford. Then he’ll frame it and hang it in every house you’re in foreternity.”
Eternity?
My brows rise at Oscar. He stares at me right in the eye, and I doubt anyone else but Donnelly realizes how he’s not joking right now. And then Oscar nods at me like heknows.
He knows that what I have with Maximoff isn’t temporary. Not just on my end, but on my boyfriend’s end, too. It’s not something he’s expressedbefore.
But I remember that Oscar was at the crash site. Holding an umbrella over us. He heard Maximoff and me. Saw him say his goodbyes. Saw us together, thinking it could’ve been the lasttime.
Raw emotion squeezes mythroat.
I nodback.
We don’t need to exchange any words. I pass him an envelope addressed to Charlie that slipped beneath mystack.
“Thatch, anything good?” Donnellyasks.
“Thatcher,” he reminds him, folding a letter. “And it’s private.” Thatcher gently places the letter in a wicker basket labeledJane.
I sort through sixget well sooncards sent to Maximoff and save them. He’ll read each one, even if it takes him hours. The next envelope, I freeze on the return address and the familiarname.
“Oliveira,” I say, “why is your mom sending cards to my boyfriend?” I flash the envelope atOscar.
“I have one for you. Hold on.” Oscar lifts a few boxes and grabs a letter. He chucks it at myface.
I catch iteasily.
Oscar nods to me. “She didn’t know if she should send you two separate invites or one together. I went through seven phone calls in one hour, Redford. Just to reassure her that two werefine.”
I cock my head. “Did you tell Sônia that I wouldn’t have given a shit eitherway?”
“Yeah, I reminded her who you are.” Oscar grabs two more letters. “And then she pulled theFarrow has no momon me. Look, she’s fucking frazzled that the Boyfriend is a Famous Boyfriend. Additional note: you both need to RSVPseparately.”
“Sure.” I rip open the one addressed to me and read theinvitation.
Please join us for the confirmation of our daughter Joana Raquel SousaOliveira.
My brows arch. For as long as I’ve known Oscar, I’ve only met his eighteen-year-old sister once ortwice.
“I know,” Oscar tells me, “but it’s a bigdeal.”
I skim thedetails.
Location: a local Catholicchurch.
Date: a Sunday afternoon nextmonth.
Ifrown.
Shit.
Probability that I’ll be stuck in the hospital working that day = extremelyhigh.
What’s worse: years ago I couldn’t attend Quinn’s confirmation for the same reason. This’ll be the second time that I bail on the Oliveira family, and I’m not feeling great aboutit.
