“What occasion?” I ask.
“It was going to be an apartment warming gift.” She lifts her dark, expertly shaped eyebrows. “But that would require mybeing invitedto your apartment.”
“Ah.” I flip the book shut and plant my hand over Alex’s face. I can’t keep staring at him. “Well, I was going to invite you. Eventually.”
“When?” she asks. “Thanksgiving?”
“Lo.” I sigh. “It’s just… not… presentable yet.”
“Presentable?You really think I’ll care what your apartment looks like?”
I stare at her.
Lauren tips her head, receiving my meaning. “Okay, I take your point. Generally, I care very deeply about interior design and architectural aesthetics and can be quite judgmental, but I’m not going to say anything aboutyourplace.”
“True.” I lean in and tap her temple. “But you’ll think it.”
“Will not!”
“Fine. You can see it. Soon. Ish.”
She glares at me.
“Just give me a couple days,” I tell her, “to zhuzh it up.”
“But I want to zhzuh it up with you!”
“Nope. You’ve done enough for me the past few months.”
She rolls her eyes. “Thea, I got sad drunk with you a couple times and dragged you to a pedicure—that’s hardly anything.”
She’s done a lot more than that. But I know better than to argue with her.
“Next Tacos and Tequila Tuesday?” I ask. “How’s that sound?”
She smiles. “That sounds lovely. What can I bring?”
I think of my sweltering third-floor apartment, how miserable Lauren will be. “A lot of ice?”
“Sure,” she says. “I’ll bring a bottle of tequila, too.”
“No you won’t.” I scoop up the cookbook and slide it into my messenger bag. “I’llprovide the tequila. And the margarita fixings.”
“Bringing tequila,” she says.
I tell her, “Paying for tacos, then.”
“Speaking of paying.” Lauren pulls out her wallet and glances around, looking for the waiter. “Of course. Now that I actually want him here, he’s nowhere to be seen.”
I smile.
She narrows her eyes. “You got the tab, didn’t you?”
“Told him it was on me when he walked us to our table.”
“Thea!”
“I’m so sorry I treated on your almost-birthday!”