“He is my favorite. It’s great to finally meet you, Aviva,” Mom says before letting go of Aviva’s hand. “I’ve never heard him talk so much about two people in my life. You guys have a nice little thing going for you.”
We all move to sit down. As Callie falls into her seat, she nods. “We’re basically a family.”
My heart warms as I sit down beside Aviva. Before I can agree, Aviva adds, “They’re close. Two little troublemakers, these two are.”
Does she not think we’re family? I feel like we’re family. I look around the table to see that we’re missing some people. “Where are Mimi and Papa?”
“So, they were supposed to come,” Mom says before sitting across from me, beside Callie. “Plane tickets were bought, but then Papa had some tournament he got called in to do, and you know Mimi doesn’t travel without him.”
I grin. “He’s still reffing?”
She nods. “Yes, at seventy-one, on skates.”
“That’s cool.” Callie glances over at me. “That’s gonna be you.”
I laugh along with everyone as the waitress comes in. After ordering drinks and an appetizer, my mom meets Aviva’s gaze. Aviva seems to tense up, but I can’t get over how gorgeous she looks. She put her hair in a high bun with her bangs covering her forehead. She’s wearing a flowy, flowery dress that hugs that ass of hers in all the ways I like. She has those stupid rubber boobs in, and I almost want to throw them away. I hate that she depends on those to feel like a woman. She’s gorgeous no matter what.
“So, you own your own business?”
I slip my hand into Aviva’s as she goes on and on about her sub shop. I love listening to her talk about it. She’s full of so much pride and loves telling the story of how her mom opened it. “She was obsessed with the 90s since touring with all the artists and all. We used to talk about how we would open a shop with funny sub names. It was fun and still is. I won’t change a thing, I love it.”
Mom smiles as she nods. “When did you lose her?”
“Nine years ago.”
“I’m sure that’s not easy.”
Aviva presses her lips together and shakes her head. “No, but I’ve got Callie, and she keeps me on my toes.”
Callie scoffs. “I’m a joy and a delight.”
I snort at that. “A pain in the ass and snarky like your sister, is more like it.”
“Hey!” Aviva laughs, and Callie nods.
“I do get it all from her.”
Mom laughs as she leans back in her chair. “Sounds like these two keep you busy.”
Aviva nods, and the smile that covers her face hits me straight in the chest. “Yeah, but it’s a good busy. They gang up on me a lot, though. Both so extravagant.”
Mom laughs. “Oh, Nicolas has always been like that.” She looks over at me, and I smile. “We grew up poor, so he’s all about blowing the money he’s worked for.”
“I don’t see a thing wrong with that,” Aviva adds, leaning into me. “He works very hard.”
Before anyone can agree, though they don’t need to since I know I do, our appetizers are brought out.
We order dinner before Callie asks, “Has Nicolas always wanted to be a hockey player?”
Mom beams, while I want to give Callie the finger. Little shit. “Yes. He didn’t talk when he was younger. I don’t think he started until he was four. His first words were ‘hockey glove.’ My father played and used to play with Nico. He’d run around with the helmet on his head, and that’s the only time he would speak to us.”
My heart kicks up, and I look over just in time to see Aviva furrow her brow. Shit. I look to Callie and say, “Tell my mom about that double back hand twist thing you did.”
Callie must have caught my drift, but before she can utter a word, Aviva says, “You didn’t talk until you were four?”
Mom nods. “Oh yes. We were worried he’d never talk.”
“Why—”
“Probably because I talk way more than I should now,” I say quickly. “Mom, Callie did this awesome twist double back thing. Don’t you have the video?”
“I do,” Callie gushes, pulling out her phone, but my mom is staring at me.
I try to tell her with my eyes to shut up, but apparently the social cues that I lack come from her. “Nicolas. Do they not know?”
I feel Aviva’s gaze on me and can see the worried crease in Callie’s forehead.
“No.”
Mom’s eyes widen as she looks between them both and then me. When she starts to speak in French, I close my eyes. Because there is no way they won’t think we’re talking about them.
How do you claim to love this woman, but she doesn’t know?
I don’t want her to know. I don’t want her to think differently of me.