Page 56 of Out of the Shadow

Leo takes a step backward and all three of us adjust our positions to more acceptable distances. He says, “Angie’s basically a one-woman show out there, with just cousin Marlene helping her. Thank God for family. When she volunteered to help with overhead, that was a godsend.”

Volunteering? I frown. “You mean Marlene isn’t being paid for her time?”

Leo shakes his head. “Not a salary yet. Angie throws her a bonus when a commission check comes in, though. That’s why the show is so important for Angie. She thinks it will put her on the map. Lord knows, she needs this boost.”

My throat clogs with emotion. This is what family means. A real family chips in to help one another. They’re there for each other through thick and thin.

Angie lives above the agency to save money. Geoff, her prior agent, quit because she couldn’t give him any leads. Here I was trying to make money to support my lifestyle, while she’s doing the show to survive.

Our conversation ends when Lucia walks into the room. “Dessert is ready.”

The kids scream and scramble off their grandfather’s lap, running into the dining room for whatever sweets await. I let everyone pass, waiting to walk into the room with Angie. “You have quite the family.”

She smiles. “They mean well. My brothers weren’t giving you a hard time, were they?”

Now that I know the full scoop on the agencies’ troubles, I’m tempted to pull her close. Tell her everything will work out. That we can do this together. The Maguires’ commission is only the first step.

And that I don’t plan on dying anytime in the next fifty years.

But I don’t say any of that. I just smile at Angie. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“Good.” She takes a step toward the dining room. “Let’s see what Mama has for dessert.” She giggles. “You’re going to have to do a hundred more sit-ups when she’s through with you.”

I can’t resist placing my hand on the small of her back, rubbing lightly through her turquoise shirt. “That’s one way to burn it off.” Her blush brings a smile to the expanding piece of my heart she’s claimed.

Angie

“MAMA, THE NUTELLApastries are better than usual.” I grab another one. That stupid Poppy probably wouldn’t let one of these enter her line of vision. Of course the Maguires had to be her clients—a fact I learned when I put in the offer letter—so the commission check will be shared with her agency in addition to the show’s cut. Still, the money will be a godsend. Marlene gets the first bonus. I bite down and the hazelnut spread oozes throughout my mouth. Pure heaven.Take that, Poppy.

Across the table, King looks like he wants tobemy pastry. For some perverse reason, I lick the Nutella off my finger rather than use my napkin. In response, his eyes dilate.What am I doing?

Juliana stands up. “Angie and I will clear the table. Mama, you go and relax with the rest of the family.” She shoos our mother toward the family room and the others follow her. I know her game. She never volunteers to clean up unless she wants to talk.

I watch King as he leaves the room with Juliana’s husband, then turn my attention to my sister. “Spill.”

She picks up the nearly empty platter. “What?” she asks innocently.

“You know what.” I steal another pastry, remembering the hungry look on King’s face. “Tell me whatever it is that you want to say so we can go watch the Yankees win.”

“Let’s hope. They were tied last time I checked.”

“All the more reason to be fast in here.”

We bring all the dishes into the kitchen, and I dump all the silverware into the dishwasher’s basket. Only then does she get around to why she wanted to do this in the first place. “I see the way King looks at you.”

I pretend I don’t. Feigning innocence, I say, “What are you talking about?”

“Marlene tells me how much he’s helping around the office. You should go for it.”

I fill the dishwasher, and start washing others by hand. “We’ve been over this. Not going there.”

She turns the faucet off. “Listen, I’m not telling you to fall in love and be all hearts and flowers with this guy. You’re dead set against moving on from Dante. No more soul mates. I get it. Just stop being such a demisexual.”

My hand stills. Awhat? “What the hell is a demisexual?”

She takes her time drying her hands on the kitchen towel and placing it back on the oven handle. “You.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

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