Page 24

It’s Alex. And he’s standing in front of our table, table sixteen. Which is apparently also his table. Because the universe hates me and wants to see me suffer.

I can feel my eyes bugging out of my head, and he freezes, probably because he’s worried that I’m going to spill the tea on his douchebag behavior to his mom. Ha! Little does he know that he has nothing to worry about because I’m too mortified to reveal any of that to my family, especially Wally, who would never let me live it down.

The woman behind Alex, his mom, steps forward. She has the same deep espresso skin as my dad. Her black hair is in shoulder-length Senegalese twists that look perfect, like they were just done yesterday, and she’s wearing a pastel purple shift dress with gold geometric earrings and strings of rainbow beads around her neck.

“Well, hello, all.” Her eyes flick quickly to Alex, concerned about his sudden silence. “My name is Ronni, and this is my son, Alex, and it seems as if we’re your new dining partners. My husband”—she pauses to look around—“well, he’s around here somewhere.”

“Ronni! Alex!” my dad calls with his arms wide, like they’re old friends. “I’m Edward Bennett, and this is my wife—”

“Marla Bennett, good to meet you.” My mom stands up and shakes her hand. “Now, you don’t chew with your mouth open or put your feet up on the table or”—she leans in and whispers like she’s going to tell a secret—“eat all gluten-free, right?”

“No, I eat lots of gluten.Exclusivelygluten!”

“Well then, I think we’re going to get along just fine!”

The old people all break into laughter, but Alex is still staring straight at me, his mouth hanging open. “You trying to catch flies with that thing?” Grandma Lenore would say, to break the tension, but instead I harden my own shocked face into a glare.

“Okay now, sit down, sit down,” Dad says, gesturing to the table like we’re having them over to our place for dinner. It’s only then that I realize I’m sitting next to an empty seat. Surely, Alex will have the good sense to sit in one of the other two empty ones and leave me to sit next to his parents, but—no. Nope. He plops down right next to me. I keep my body rigid, refusing to acknowledge him in any way.

“Of course they’ve put us all together,” Dad adds with a sly smile. “Can’t keep the brothers and sisters separated!”

“Right, now!” Alex’s mom laughs, slapping the table and not caring how loud she’s being. I like her already. Too bad she has an asshole son.

“So, Alex, right?” Mom asks, turning her attention to him.

He nods. “Yes, that’s right, Mrs. Bennett.”

“These are our three, Etta, Wally, and Lenore, who is... mean-mugging you for some reason,Lenore—” She swats my shoulder. “You two look like you’re about the same age, actually. She’s seventeen—well, eighteen in a few days. How old are you, Alex?”

“I’m eighteen, Mrs. Bennett,” he says, his voice smooth. “I just graduated from high school.”

“Oh, you’ve got you some manners!” Mom says. And she’s giggling. Giggling! “Please, call me Marla. We’re cruise family now.”

Um, she’s never told any of my friends to call her Marla, but okay.

“A birthday on board, Lenore!” Alex’s mom says, clapping her hands. “That is so exciting! We’ll have to talk to the chef about getting you a cake. You know, I went to his macaron-making demonstration today, and...”

She continues on, but I get distracted by a middle-aged man with shiny black hair, pale skin, and a bright-pink polo walking up behind her. He approaches the table with purpose and pulls out the empty seat. I’m confused at first, but then it clicks in my brain—Alex’s light brown skin, loose curls, and ambiguous features.

My dad’s not so fast though.

“Excuse me, sir,” he says, and my stomach clenches with the impending cringe. “That seat is saved for her husband. Which table are you looking for?”

“Dad!” I say through clenched teeth, and I see Alex wince out of the corner of my eye.

“This one,” the man says. “Because I’m this beautiful lady’s husband.” He leans down to kiss Alex’s mom on the cheek.

I feel the whole table freeze as we sit on the precipice of massive awkwardness.

“Oh! I’m sorry,” Dad says, slapping the palm of his hand to his forehead. “Of course you are.”

“It happens a lot,” Alex’s mom says, waving it away. “No worries.”

“Still, that doesn’t make it okay,” Dad continues. He stands up to shake hands. “Ed Bennett. Nice to meet you, man.”

Alex’s dad grins, a twinkle in his eye. “Honestly, good looking out! Men are always trying to steal the seat next to my wife. We must stay vigilant.” He extends his arm up like he’s holding a sword. And Alex’s mom shakes her head at the corniness, but the rest of the table falls into easy laughter, grateful for the excuse. “I’m David Lee. And I see we’ve definitely been put at the right table.”

“Yes, we have,” Mrs. Lee says. “Oh lord, honey, remember the Stewarts from the cruise last August?” She leans forward, looking around the table. “They weretheworst, already legally divorced, but they were trying to make it work again. As if being trapped in a two-hundred-fifty-square-foot room in the middle of the ocean was the key to all their extensive problems, most of which they wanted to talk through withus. And their son—”