“Right,” I say, even though all this wedding talk may as well be Greek to me.
Thank God for Violet, who spent years working at a wedding venue and can supply me with all the wedding-related phrases I’ll need for the next few months.
“Make sure you give them a fake phone number,” Eli advises from the far end of the couch, where he’s sitting next to Violet, playing something on his phone. “And a fake email address. Otherwise you’ll be getting ten emails a day about cake.”
“Doesn’t sound so bad,” I say.
“You’ll just be constantly hungry for cake,” Violet points out. “And it’ll be even worse, because it’s not like you’re ever actually going to get to eat any of these cakes, so you’ll just be torturing yourself with delicious, delicious sugar porn and no chance of satisfaction.”
Eli raises one eyebrow and looks over at her.
“Is there something I don’t know?” he teases. “Everything all right over there?”
“I’m talking about dessert,” she says.
“I know.”
“The pastry kind,” she teases.
“You sure?”
“There are other people in the room,” Caleb calls. He’s lying on the other sofa, reading a paperback by holding it up over his face.
“She brought up sugar porn, not me,” Eli says, leaning back again. “Why is today the day for weird porn conversations?”
That gets a look from both Violet and Caleb, who lowers his book just to stare at his older brother.
“Should I leave?” he asks.
“No, you’re gonna help me find the shortest route to all these bakeries,” Violet says.
“Is it gonna be dick-shaped? We talking algorithm porn here?”
“Well, that depends on what you come up with, doesn’t it?” she says. “You can ignore Eli, I don’t know what he’s talking about.”
She grins at Eli, and he narrows his eyes at her teasingly.
“The porn is a long story,” I say, glancing at the staircase. Daniel left a while ago to put Rusty to bed, and I’m not antsy to see him again, but… okay, I’m a little antsy.
Not because I don’t like hanging out with his family. They’re great. I just want to see him again, want him to be here, because I feel like a lot of things got weird today.
“That’s unusual for porn,” says Eli. “Usually there’s not much story at all.”
There’s a sound on the stairs, and then Daniel appears, tripping lightly downwards. My heart thuds faster and I sit up straighter.
“Are we talking about Eli’s thing for puppet porn again?” he asks, walking to the couch where Caleb is sprawled and making a move over motion with one hand.
Caleb makes a what the hell, I’m comfortable gesture at him, but Daniel just rolls his eyes, and Caleb sighs, sitting up.
“Puppet porn,” says Violet, resting her hands on top of her head and raising an eyebrow at Eli. “Do go on.”
“Or don’t,” offers Caleb, tucking his feet under himself to sit cross-legged. “You could always not.”
“I don’t think puppets even have genitals,” Eli points out.
“Well, not all puppets,” I say.
“I’m positive that puppets with genitals exist,” Violet says. “It’s a big world, there’s someone into everything.”
“And Eli’s into puppet porn,” Daniel says, grinning.
He glances at me. I can’t help but smile.
“Eli’s an innocent man whose sole mistake in this life was having brothers who latch onto the wrong part of everything he says,” Eli sighs.
“Sole mistake?” says Violet.
“One? Seriously?” says Caleb. They’re both grinning.
“Could you guys please finish your itinerary so we can all go home?” Eli says, ignoring the two of them.
“Fine, but not because you asked,” Violet says, swiping at the iPad again.
“Of course not,” Eli says, smirking.
“Daniel, come over here,” Violet orders.
He gets up. Caleb sprawls again. Violet scoots down, squishing Eli, until there’s room for four people on this couch, and Daniel settles in, smashed against me.
We share a look. A smile. He puts his arm around me like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and strangely, it is.
It still gets a knowing eyebrow raise from Eli, though, so I focus on the iPad and ignore it.
“All right,” she says, pulling up a document. It’s a rough itinerary. I didn’t even see her make it. “Your first cake appointment is at eleven a.m. At Susie Q’s Cakes in Grotonsville, and your last appointment is at five p.m. at the Frosted Fig in Dry Run.”
“Are there any in-between?” Daniel asks, leaning into me.
His beard catches slightly in my hair, which is medium-large right now, and I pull the strand back, tuck it behind my ear.
“There are five in-between,” Violet says, and switches to the map on the iPad. “Caleb’s figuring out which order they should be in, so you have the least amount of driving to do.”
“Circle,” Caleb calls.
“They’re not in a circle,” Violet says.
“Make the route as circular as you can,” he says, back to reading his book. “There it is. The algorithm magic.”