As we head back into the kitchen, Meg crowds close to my side. “Way to give a girl a heads-up.”
“I meant to! I got distracted with you and Francesca reprising your one-woman roles of the Jets and the Sharks.”
“What is he doing here?” she asks.
I shrug. “Business, I think. I didn’t know he was here until five minutes ago. Mateo didn’t tell me.”
“What good are you?” Meg mutters. “You’re supposed to know this stuff. You’re his wife, for Christ’s sake. You live in this house. This is your house. Why don’t you know when Vegas cousins come to visit?”
“I’ve been busy campaigning to keep your ass alive; I didn’t have time to read the newsletter.”
Nodding once in begrudging acknowledgement, she says, “I guess I can’t complain about that.”
“Ingrate,” I mutter, grabbing my own salad and heading back to the dining room. “This is why Mateo calls you my frenemy.”
Meg snorts. “He used the word frenemy? I can’t believe I missed that. Please tell me you can get footage off one of the cameras.”
“I have much bigger problems right now,” I inform her.
We’re back through the kitchen doors so I stop talking to Meg and approach my spot at the table. Since Vince is long gone and we don’t usually have as many people as we have tonight, normally no one sits beside me.
It’s incredibly odd to be seated next to Mateo’s Vegas cousin at the dinner table. Rafe Morelli somehow takes up too much space. I feel crowded. That’s absurd because Vince sat in this same space for nearly a year and I never felt too crowded, but tonight I do. Tonight I’m a ball of tension, Rafe taking up far too much room on my left. His elbow bumps mine several times. Meg sits across from me, but Mateo doesn’t want me to be her friend and I don’t want to bring up her imprisonment in case Rafe doesn’t know. Then my beloved husband presides over all of us, tonight’s resident wild card.
Luckily Alec is seated next to Meg tonight. Ordinarily he sits down by Adrian, but tonight he’s the buffer. Alec is the only one in the house who takes no sides in anything. We are all on our own teams, and Alec is chilling on the bleachers, only here because he has to be.
Sal and Francesca are beside Alec, then Elise is seated at the end with Adrian at the foot of the table. Rafe gets the rare honor of sitting next to Colette and Dante.
As much space as Rafe sucks up, at least I don’t have to sit by Dante. I bet he would take up just as much space, but instead of Rafe’s calm presence, he would exude malice.
“Didn’t expect you to be back so soon,” Dante says casually, cutting into his salad. “Did you fall in love with Mia, too?”
Rafe looks his way and nods casually. “I did. My master plan is to woo her right in front of her husband, after advertising it to the whole family at the dinner table.”
I roll my eyes and look at Mateo to make sure he’s on board with all this nonsense. He winks at me reassuringly and I fill up with affection.
“I like it,” Dante states. “Bold. Let me know if I can be of any assistance.”
“If I need a chloroform rag, you’ll be my first call,” Rafe assures him.
“I like this plan, too,” Adrian says agreeably, spearing a big bite of salad and nodding. “Makes it so much easier to figure out who I’m supposed to kill to keep the peace. I wish everyone would be so transparent.”
“Speaking of people who need killing,” Francesca says, cocking her head to the side as she addresses Rafe. “You’ve met Meg, right?”
Sal shakes his head, glancing at Mateo. “Still no popcorn course, huh? I gotta say, as legendary as your hospitality is, I’m disappointed.”
Rafe glances from person to person, but takes it all pretty much in stride. If he’s surprised anyone would say Meg needs to die, he doesn’t show it. “We met on a couple of occasions.”
“Well, if you wanna take a chloroform rag to anyone, make sure it’s her. Stuff her in the trunk and don’t stop until you’re back in Nevada,” Francesca advises him.
Amused as hell, Rafe cocks an eyebrow at Meg. “I see you have a lot of friends.”
“Almost too many,” Meg agrees, taking a drink of her water. “I don’t have time to hang out with them all so I’ve taken to the dungeon for some me-time. Totally my choice. If anyone tells you otherwise, they’re lying.”
“Dungeons can be fun,” Rafe states, like that’s pretty reasonable.
I can’t resist piping in here. “This one really isn’t.”
Now Rafe grimaces at Mateo. “You need to improve your dungeon, man. Your wife’s not impressed.”
Lips curving up faintly, Mateo assures him, “My wife has never spent time there. It’s not meant for the fun kind of punishment.”