Page 16 of The Love We Make

NORA

“I don’t know what’s happening to me.” Juan’s up to his usual over-the-top theatrics. “Imani, check my temperature, please. I’m sure I have a fever.”

Imani and I exchange a look. We all but roll our eyes. Juan may, for some inexplicable reason, think this is the first time in his life he’s felt this way, but Imani and I know better.

“This boy. Thisman.” Juan stares intensely into the pool. “He’s too good for me. I can’t be with a wholesome man like Austin, yet it’s all I want.”

“Darling.” Imani shuffles around until she’s sitting right in front of him, her legs dangling in the pool. “Listen to me.” She snaps her fingers in front of Juan a couple of times. “You’re smitten. It happens once in a while. You’ll feel discombobulated for a few weeks, but then it will pass.” She doesn’t add that, if he follows his usual routine, Juan will probably dump Austin once this intoxicating cocktail of hormones has left his blood. “Pull yourself together, please. Just a touch. Just so we can have a pleasant Sunday together.”

“Neither one of you understands romance the way I do,” Juan says on a dramatic sigh. “When were you last in love?”

Oh, so now he’s in love. I wonder if Austin has said anything to his mother about Juan. I’m in two minds to text her, to get Austin’s perspective—and find out how much Juan is exaggerating.

“Not all that long ago.” Imani’s voice is low, almost threatening.

“I’m sorry.” Juan scoots over to her and puts his hands on her knees. “In all my excitement, I forgot about The Bitch for a second.”

“At Stella’s party, Mimi asked if you and I were a couple, Imani.”

“Mimi?” Imani narrows her eyes.

“Michelle St James,” Juan says. “Austin’s mama.”

“You and I would make a stunning pair.” Imani flutters her long lashes “So, no offense taken.” She grins at me. “You’ve been awfully quiet about your dinner atMimi’s house last night, by the way. Care to share with your friends?”

“It was just a producer making dinner for a cast member,” I respond.

“You’re Nora Levine, darling,” Juan says. “You’re never just a cast member.”

“Which is probably why Mimi was so keen to invite me to her house.”

“What was she like? Bitchy? Demonstrative of… I don’t know, her wealth? Her influence? The fact that she had you there, right where she wanted you?” Imani’s sounding more than a touch jaded today.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“It’s Jay with all this Austin stuff, and you having dinner with Mimi while I was on my own last night eating ice cream straight out of the container.”

“Just to be clear,” I’m quick to say, “me having dinner at Mimi’s is totally different than Juan going on a date with Austin.”

“I’d say,” Juan says. “I had my lips all over—”

“No!” Imani holds up her hands. “We’re not doing that today.”

“How dare you cramp my sexually liberated style, sister.” Juan splashes water on Imani, who tickles him with her feet. A short bout of swimming pool antics later, they’ve calmed down.

“Okay.” Juan heaves himself out and sits next to Imani. “We need to get you some loving. What can we do?”

“I just never thought I would be this incredibly single at nearly fifty, you know?” Imani sighs. “I feel like I’ve failed at something.”

“What if instead of calling it single, you call it self-partnered,” I offer, earning me a well-deserved eye roll from Juan. He’s got this. I should know to let them do their thing by now.

“We’re all single here,” Juan says.

“Oh, really? You haven’t been giving off a lot of single vibes since you met Austin,” Imani says. “He’s fabulous, don’t get me wrong, but it’s just so easy for you. It’s like you just turn up somewhere, and bam! A gorgeous guy flutters to you.”

I block out their conversation for a few minutes. I don’t have much to contribute and I’ve heard it countless times before. Besides, no one cheers up Imani like Juan does.

I recline on my lounge chair, gazing up at the blue LA sky. Inadvertently, some of the things I said last night pop up in my head—as they always do. Things I perhaps shouldn’t have said. But with age has come the ability to let go. To no longer rehash a conversation until I’ve sucked all the lingering joy out of it. To twist it this way and that in my head, scrutinizing it for every possible mistake I might have made and every time I broke the conventional rules of conversation.

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