Page 93 of The Fix-Up

Gil—

You’ve been to Chris’s house? When?

—Ellie

P.S. Great.

Eleanor—

I get around.

—Gilbert

P.S. Sure.

“Which one is Aggie again?” Gil leaned close and whispered. He’d arrived just before three and after a quick round of introductions, we’d gone straight into dinner.

“Keep up, Dalton. She’s the tall one at the end.”

“The one who has olives on all her fingers and is making Oliver laugh?”

“Yep, that’s her. She’s number four out of five and just graduated from University of Texas. On the other side of her is Betsy.”

“Pink hair?”

“Classic middle child. Always looking for attention. She’s an art teacher in Oklahoma City.”

“Which leaves Millie. The blonde one across from us.”

“The baby. She’s a senior in high school this year. And an evil mastermind.” I leaned in a bit closer and lowered my voice. “If she asks to get you alone, just smile and nod at whatever she says.”

Gil’s eyes flashed with concern. “What does that mean?”

I shrugged and began cutting up the slice of ham on my plate. “Shemighttry and threaten your life if you hurt me. I’ve already told her it’s not like that between us but…she gets ideas.”

“What?”

“It’s just a thing she does. She’s a sweetheart.” I took a bite and chewed slowly. After swallowing, I smiled. “Mostly. I’m pretty sure they’re empty threats, at least.”

“She’s not really joking,” Mae said from Gil’s other side. “I got the talk when Chris brought me home for the first time. That girl could make a mafia boss shake in their boots.”

I shrugged. “I told you. My family’s…a bit extra, shall we say?”

Like she’d been summoned, my mom caught Gil’s eye. “Gilbert, it’s so nice you could join us. Ellie’s told us so much about you.”

“That’s a big whopping lie,” Aggie said, nearly flinging an olive across the table when she pointed at me. “She’s told us almost nothing.”

“Agnes, take those off your fingers,” my mom glared at her. “You are not a child.”

“Debatable,” Betsy murmured.

“We have company here. Can we try to be normal for once?” Mom set her glass down with a bit too much force.

“Okay, Margot. Chill.” Aggie bit an olive off a finger.

“Luke,” my mom stared down the long table in Mae and Chris’s formal dining room at my father, “tell your daughters to be normal, please. And remind them I spent hours upon hours in excruciating pain that it felt like my body was being torn in half and burned at the stake to give them life, so they should be referring to me as Mom, not Margot.”

Mae made a choking sound and scrambled to guzzle her water.

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