Page 197 of Tangled Like Us

I’m about to help Jane, but realization strikes her fast. “Michelina? Yes, we’ve met; she’s quite wonderful.” Jane goes on, talking more, and my grandma is beaming the whole time. She smiles from me to Jane, back to me.

We need to leave.I can’t stand here and do this much longer. Not in front of these women, and Jane is having a harder time too.

I’m about to excuse us, but then Michelina shuffles into the dining room with Tony.Goddammit.

My aunts, cousins, and moms stand up to hug and kiss them.

Jane rises to her feet too, and I wrap a protective arm around her hips. I watch Tony snatch a bottle of whiskey off the table. Everyone had been drinking whiskey with black coffee.

He spreads his arms out to me. “Aren’t you going to give your uncle a hug?”

I want to give him a right hook to the jaw. My glare intensifies. We’re both twenty-eight, and un-fucking-fortunately, he is actually my uncle.

On paper. Not by blood.

His older sister is Nicola Ramella, my stepmom who has a heart of gold. Tony and Nicola have a large age gap for siblings.

I already told Jane my relation to him, and how my mom and Nicola were in the same grade at Saint Joseph’s. They used to date before my mom got with my dad. And they reconnected at a high school reunion, fell back in love, and married.

Tony drops his arms. “No?” This fucking tool winks at Jane. “What about you, sweetheart?”

I step out in front of Jane, my eyes lethal, and all the women yell at the men to come separate us.

“Antonio!” Uncle Joe calls to Tony. “Get your ass in here.”

I’m being told to go talk to my grandma before I leave. I check back on Jane before I do. “You good?”

“Yes. You?”

I nod. “Has Farrow texted you?”

She softens her voice. “He has. He’s with Moffy. They’ll be here in five minutes.”

I kiss her temple before I draw away, our hands stay clasped until the very last second that our fingers have to pull apart.

I approach my grandma at the table. Short gray hair, petite, wrinkles and age spots blemishing her frail skin—her eyes already fill with tears seeing that I’m about to go.

I take a knee in front of her chair and kiss her cheek. Whispering, “I wish we could stay longer with you.”

My grandma places a loving hand against my jaw, cradling my face. “You put too much on yourself, you hear? There’s only one thing you need to remember. Just one.” She brings my face closer to hers. “Be happy.”

43

JANE COBALT

My dad is practicallya lie detector.

It has made every Wednesday night family dinner tense. For me. The one who is holstering a giant secret. There are only so many times a girl can pretend sheisn’tsleeping with her bodyguard before all the beans are spilled. And there will be no spilling of any beans.

Which is why I’ve come prepared tonight.

To conceal my facial expressions, I wear a silver Venetian mask, cheap and plastic. I even haphazardly hot-glued feathers to the edge. Costumes are typical, so it won’t draw suspicion.

Dinner will formally begin when my parents arrive. Two velveteen chairs wait for them.

All six of my siblings are already seated at the elegant, ornately-carved dining table, the surface stuffed for a feast. Roasted goose emits a familiar and savory aroma, surrounded by platters of cranberries, green beans, and potatoes. A vegan roast made from seitan sits at Ben’s end.

The menu never changes. When I was little, I’d grow sick of the meal. But now, I crave it.