12. Amanda
CHAPTER TWELVE
AMANDA
“This is going to be a shit show,” Eric says. “Medusa is going to skin me alive.”
“Don’t be dramatic.” I’m putting the leftover vegetables and sauce in containers.
Eric is drying and tidying up everything else.
There’s lasagna in the oven. We made it together, using my nonna’s recipe and the ground pork.
I keep waiting for him to sit down and scroll on his phone while I do all things housework. It doesn’t happen.
Since Eric spoke to Diego, and I spoke to Val, we need them in on it, keeping a tight lid on the timeline.
The plan is that saying “We are having a baby” doesn’t have to mean “We are both biologically related to it.” So we’ll be playing that up.
For it to work, though, Val and Diego need to let us handle the information flow.
I am not worried about Val, but Diego—well, his mouth is the size of Texas.
“This is easy for you to say. You’re not the target of her clinical third degree.”
I scoff. “Not true.” I giggle. “That’s one of Val’s love languages.”
He harrumphs. “Maybe to express her love to you. She’d be happy if I turned to stone.”
“Is that why you call her Medusa sometimes?” I ask.
“Diego started, actually,” Eric says, putting the saucepan away. “Honestly, she’s kind of terrifying to me. I get the sense she sees right through me, so it took off for me.”
“Well,” I add in a mocking tone, “She is one of the best psychodynamic therapists in the Midwest. So it is very likely.”
Eric gives me an exasperated look, and I laugh, washing my hands.
“You just—” A solid knock on the door interrupts me. Before I’m done drying my hands, the solid knock turns into a succession of rapid tabs.
“Let me get it.” Eric puts the dish towel over his shoulder and steps to the entryway. It isn’t long before I hear Diego’s loud, unmistakable voice.
“Get out of the way,” he says. “I wanna see my friend.”
“I am your friend,” Eric responds.
“You’re a boring grouch.” Diego’s hair is tied in a high bun, and the strip of beard he leaves at his jawline looks freshly trimmed. He’s wearing a button-up shirt and smiling brightly at me. It’s impossible not to grin widely back at him.
He’s younger than Eric, but older than me, and he’s been around my whole life—his parents close friends with mine. Diego gave me tips on how to cheat in chemistry and taught me how to make his abuela’s flan. I am not as close to his parents as I am to Eric’s mom, but they’re good people.
Diego’s arms come to my shoulders, and he holds me in place. “Have you been treating my girl right?”
Unlike Eric, I don’t think today will be messy. It’s just Diego and Val. Eric is right about something: Val will tear through our arrangement like a wrecking ball, but Diego is going to love this. His side hug has his arm lingering over my shoulders, keeping me safely tucked next to him.
“Honestly?” I ask, teasing. There’s a gleam of amusement in Eric’s eyes. He knows it’s been great between us. “He could have done much worse.”
Diego points a finger at Eric’s chest. “Well, you better keep it up!” Eric rolls his eyes and steps away to check on the lasagna.
Watching that he is out of sight, Diego pulls me in lightly.
Tightening his grip on my shoulders, he’s whispering, “Mr. Grouch over there is going to be mad if he realizes I was the first one to actually buy anything, but I have something for you. Kinda.” Diego shoves a small gift bag at me, and I open it to reveal a yellow onesie with the words, You think I’m cute? ! You should see my Uncle Diego.
I smile at him, my eyes misting a little. “You think you’re cute, huh?” I say, trying to diffuse the tenderness of the gesture.
“And sexy and awesome,” he says, flicking my nose.
“Seriously, Mandy. Congratulations. Babies are awesome.” Diego’s gaze flicks behind me to the two newly added bookcases in Eric’s front room.
“What did I tell you about that?” He points at them.
“All your books safely unpacked, and plenty of room to get more, right?” He winks.
Before I can respond, there’s another knock on the door.
My eyes meet Eric’s across the room, and it is slightly hilarious how it’s impossible to miss the panic in his eyes.
“Amanda, will you please let Medusa in? I’m honestly afraid she’s going to turn me into stone.” I scoff and nod, stepping away from Diego.
“Hey, dude, don’t you talk shit about Val. She’s awesome”
Eric groans. “Dude, don’t even. She’ll have you for breakfast.”
As I head to open the door, hanging the gift bag on the coat rack, I hear Diego murmur, “I’d be her breakfast any day.”
Val is here, cradling not one, but two bottles of Cabernet Sauvignon. She doesn’t return my smile.
“Thanks for making it.”
She smirks then. “I look forward to making Eric squirm.” She comes into the house without waiting for an explicit invitation, brushing past my shoulder to make room for herself.
I frown and hold my stare, trying to get her to commit to, well, tempering her charming self around Eric.
She deliberately ignores me, pointing at the wine bottles instead.
“I hope you were not expecting that I’d abstain because you can’t drink. ”
“I would never.” Keeping Val away from wine at night is like… Well, keeping me away from wine under normal circumstances.
“Is the other one here yet?” I arch my brow. Just as she finishes the question, beats of merengue flow from the room. “Oh, good, he’s DJing.”
“You know it’s his thing.”
We step into the main room. Eric is cutting some meat and cheese to set up a charcuterie board.
Diego is queuing up songs on Eric’s streaming account.
He’s mumbling—well, yelling at Eric about deleting his playlist. Val’s eyebrows shoot to her hairline when Diego steps away from the remote and starts swinging his hips.
For a second, I think he’s going to grab her, but he opts for pulling me into his arms instead.
“Venga, Mandy, you love this song!”
I throw my head back in laughter and step into him, letting him lead me for a few twirls while we both sing. My Spanish isn’t great, but I can follow the lyrics, and I often chat with Diego when we want to annoy Eric.
“Val,” Eric calls out to my friend. At least he doesn’t call her Medusa to her face. Though she might actually love that. “They’re going to be doing that for a while. Come over, and I will set you up with some wine.” She doesn’t need to be asked twice.
Diego pulls me closer to him, like he’s about to share a secret as our hips sway together. “You think they’re safe with each other for five minutes?” he asks.
“I wouldn’t push it much longer.”
His smile stays playful. “I know you’re worried about being too close to Eric.” The grin is still there, but there’s a flicker of something more serious in his eyes. “You’re both doing better. Just so you know.”
“I don’t want to give him false hope. Last thing I want is to be cruel to him, you know?” I say, trying to keep my voice easy.
Diego doesn’t push. He just nods, his eyes shining.
“Look at him, Mandy. Really look at him.” I glance into the kitchen.
Val’s holding a wine glass, criticizing Eric’s knife skills, her voice rising above the music.
He doesn’t flinch or snap back. He just keeps slicing, calm, controlled.
“Last thing you’re doing is being cruel.
” Eric takes the teasing in stride, even refilling her glass without being asked.
When she offers the bottle to him in return, arching a brow, he just shakes his head and lifts his can of sparkling water instead.
“Give him a little credit,” Diego says, watching me.
“He knows what this is and what it isn’t. He knows what it could be. Do you?”