This Spells Love(4)

“It was an accident. Kiersten keeps doing this thing where she fills my glass up before it’s empty. I lost count somewhere between two and a half and three and three-quarters. Jose Cuervo was not made for fractions. Then the ceiling started to get all spinny and…” I look down, only now fully realizing that I’m no longer wearing pants. “I got really hot.”

Dax’s eyes briefly sweep south before returning to my face. “Yeah, I was going to ask what happened there.”

My memories are feeling a little fuzzy, but I distinctly remember having a perfectly rational reason for shedding my jeans. “I think I took them off to make a point. Something about turning over a new leaf. You are looking at wild and unpredictable Gemma. She drinks tequila on a work night. She doesn’t need pants, or Stuart, for that matter.”

I’m aware that I’ve named he-who-shall-not-be-named yet again, but Aunt Livi’s margaritas seem to be doing the trick, and it doesn’t sting so much to say it this time.

“I like pantsless Gemma”—Dax’s gaze does another sweep—“but part of me wonders.” He reaches past me to the pocket of my trench hanging next to the door, pulls out my phone, and swipes it open. Scrolling through the apps, he stops on the alarm clock and clicks. “Ah, just as I suspected. My predictable Gemma is still in there, setting her three backup alarms for the morning.”

I grab the phone from his hand and attempt a scowl. But he’s right. My leaf is still the same side up as always. “I also texted my concierge and bribed him with apple fritters to be my morning wake-up call,” I tell him. “All of the Beauty Buyers have eight straight hours of quarterly sales and ops meetings tomorrow, and if I miss it, I’m gonna be totally fucked for Q3.”

“You two gonna make googly eyes at each other all night, or are you gonna help me with this pitcher?”

Kiersten’s voice both acts as a reminder that Dax and I are not alone and clears the brain fog enough to make me note that we’re standing unnaturally close.

I take a step back, putting a normal friendship amount of distance between us, and gesture for him to take a seat.

Kiersten has my glass refilled and Dax’s poured by the time we get to the couch. I take a sip of my half-melted drink, but Dax politely shakes his head. “I drove over here tonight.”

Kiersten shrugs and takes the glass, turning toward Aunt Livi. “Need a refill?”

My elderly aunt is asleep on her La-Z-Boy, her mouth half-open, looking a tad bit deceased as her ancient corgi, Dr. Snuggles, curls in her lap.

“Is she okay?” Dax asks.

“Oh, she’s fine,” answers Kiersten, “just a one-margarita kind of woman, that’s all. Hey, Aunt Livi—”

Kierst grabs the broken corner of a Cool Ranch Dorito from the bowl next to the margarita blender and chucks it at my aunt’s open mouth.

Even though Kiersten was cut from her beer league softball team, the chip finds its target perfectly. There’s a horrific thirty seconds where Aunt Livi breathes in and the chip sort of catches in her throat. Her eyes fly open as she makes this half-startled, half-scared face before Kiersten’s mother-of-three instincts kick into action.

She pulls Aunt Livi to her feet while slapping her hard on the back. It takes three hard smacks before the chip flies out of Aunt Livi’s mouth and across the living room to be forever lost in the orange shag carpeting.

“Good grief, what in the heck was that?” My aunt’s face looks like an overripe tomato.

Kiersten hands her the margarita with a face of pure innocence. “I think a paint chip fell from the ceiling and landed in your mouth while you were snoring.”

My aunt’s eyes skim the peeling white paint above her as she takes a long drink.

“Well, thanks, pudding.” Aunt Livi hands Kiersten the now-empty glass. “I owe you one.”

She looks around her living room, her eyes stopping on Dax, who was not there when she fell asleep. “Oh, Daxon, it’s lovely to see you. You’re looking as dapper as always.”

Dax blushes and gets up from his seat to give her a kiss on the cheek. I catch Kiersten enjoying her view of Dax’s ass as he bends over. She catches my eye and winks, and I feel my own cheeks heating.

“You woke up just in time, Aunt Livi,” Kiersten says. “We were just about to start the part of the night where we roast Stuart mercilessly.”

My aunt looks over at me as if asking if I’ve signed on to this activity. I shrug, figuring it’s cheaper than therapy.

“Do you want to start us off?” Kierst asks Dax.

He shakes his head, also eyeing me. “Ladies first.”

Kiersten licks the salted rim of her glass, then sits on the lounger, flopping her head in my direction. “Before I say what I’m going to say, you’re absolutely sure you and Stu aren’t going to kiss and make up, right?”

My mind drifts back to our breakup three weeks ago. “I threw a full glass of merlot on his blue Tom Ford suit. He didn’t speak to me for three days after that time when I had a bloody nose, and some droplets splattered on his khakis. And they were only J.Crew and it was an accident.”

Kiersten snorts. Likely because she has always thought Stuart was too precious. I purposely kept the nosebleed story from her because of it.

“I think you were more in love with the idea of Stuart than the actual person,” she says.