A glowering Alex storms out of the kitchen, two cake pops clutched in his hands.
I tell Lauren, “It just happened, I swear. That’s why I wanted to talk last night. Ethan and Jen invited us on a ‘two-family’ vacation in August, because they have something important to share with us that’s going to ‘impact Mia.’ That’s all they said. They’ve been very cryptic.”
Lauren pulls back enough that I can see more than one eye and the bridge of her nose. “I don’t like it.”
“Neither do we. But Alex and I agreed whatever this ‘important something’ was, it was worth dealing with for Mia.” I dart a glance at Alex, who’s grumpily handing Mia her cake pops, then lean in and whisper, “I just realized that ‘something important’ is probably Ethan and Jen’s beachfront wedding.”
Lauren hisses out a faint, extended, “Shiiiit.”
“It makes sense, right? White dresses? Special occasion? What else could it be?”
“Nothing. That has to be it.” She leans in, too. “So are they expecting you two to be their witnesses? If so, that’s… weird.”
“I really hope not.” I rub at my suddenly throbbing temple. “Can’t wait to drop this bomb on Alex. He’s seemed off since we decided to go, until today, at least. Today, he finally seemed happy.”
“Iwashappy,” Alex says.
I startle, nearly dropping my phone.
Alex crouches, meeting Lauren’s eyes on my phone screen. “Until now,” he says.
“Alec,” she says stonily.
“Lawrence.” He narrows his eyes. “You cost me two more cake pops.”
“You’re welcome, Mimi!” Lauren calls.
Mia lifts both cake pops in the air and lets out a celebratory whoop.
Alex massages the bridge of his nose.
“So,” Lauren says to us, “this vacation sounds like a nightmare.”
Alex shoots me an accusing look. “You told her already?”
“Obviously,” Lauren says. “She tellsmeeverything.”
A muscle jumps in Alex’s jaw. He stands and tells her, “Later, Lawrence.”
“Leaving so soon?” she asks sweetly.
“Staying,” Alex tells her, “would risk more swears—and thus more cake pops—at which point my kid will be so sugared up, I’ll have to peel her off the ceiling.” He turns to me. “I’m going to finish cleaning up the kitchen.”
I sigh, slumping back in my lawn chair. “Lo, do youalwayshave to give him crap?”
“Yes,” she says. “Now, tell me all about this vacation. Take it from the top.”
“I’m not sure this is a quick FaceTime conversation topic. Maybe we can talk later, once you’re done with work? I’ll be up way past my bedtime anyway, doing cleanup after the event. That should line up well for you on West Coast time.”
Lauren shrugs. “Now is fine, too. I’m flexible.”
I blink, a bit stunned. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that about yourself. Outside of physical flexibility.”
Lauren tugs her sunglasses down and smiles serenely. A tiki drink appears in her hand, which she takes a long tug of through a twirly straw. “At Frances the therapist’s encouragement, I took theday off. No work for me today.” She feigns two very unconvincing coughs. “I’m ‘sick.’?”
“Lo!” I beam at her. “I’m proud of you. And I like your therapist.”
“I think I finally like my therapist, too. Now, fill me in.” She settles deeper in her chaise and smiles. “I’ve got all day.”