Page 15 of Ghostlighted
Well, yes, but I knew a frontal assault wouldn’t work. Although I might be sneaky, I wasn’t boneheaded.
“Send somebody else, then. Your sister, for instance. She’s the most level-headed seventeen-year-old I’ve ever met.”
Ricky opened his mouth, clearly about to protest, but then a contemplative expression settled onto his face. “That might work. Felicia’s organized enough that she could handle logistics for an international trading company. A little trip across the country?” He scoffed. “Eso no es nada. She’s also the only person other than me who can keep Tia on track with her meds.”
I tapped a finger on the back of his hand, which I still held to my chest and was in no hurry to release. “You’ve mentioned her meds before. Would the trip be too much for her health?”
“No. She’s had supraventricular tachycardia all her life, but when it started to worsen, her doctor put her on beta blockers and it’s manageable.”
“Is she a candidate for ablation?”
Ricky’s eyebrows lifted. “You know about SVT?”
I nodded. “My grandmother had it, too. The episodes got more frequent and longer as she got older, so she finally went the surgical route.” I chuckled. “She complained that if she’d known it worked so well, she’d have done it years earlier.”
“Tia’s still resisting the procedure because surgery makes her nervous, and as long as she keeps up with her meds and doesn’t overdo, she’s fine. However.” He squeezed my hands. “Before you start calling airlines and booking hotel rooms, we should ask her if it’s something she’d want. She’s never flown before. She’s never even been out of Oregon.”
“What? Never?”
Ricky shrugged. “She always said there was never anywhere she wanted to go badly enough.”
“You think she wants this badly enough?”
Ricky huffed a half-laugh. “Not for her. But for Liam? Yeah. Yeah, I’m pretty sure she does, but it should still be her choice.”
“Then let’s ask her when we ask her about the party.”
“Ai.” He released my hands and stepped back. “I forgot about the party. We can’t do both.”
I stuck my hands in my back pockets so I wouldn’t reach for him again. “Why not? The party’s not until June first, and she scheduled it so Liam would have time to get home for it. We’ll send her a few days ahead of time. She and Felicia can see the sights, visit with Liam?—”
“Assuming he can carve out time from his busy schedule for them,” Ricky said dryly.
“Even if he doesn’t, they can still go to the ceremony and then fly home by the thirty-first. Meanwhile, we can prepeverything here for the party. All she’ll have to do is hang out with her family and show everyone pictures of the trip.”
Ricky closed the distance between us and looked up at me. “You’d do that for my family?”
I had to try twice before I could speak, because with Ricky’s warm brown eyes on me, I’d somehow forgotten where I kept my voice. “I’d do that forourfamily. I may only have been here in Ghost for a few weeks, but I’m already home.”
Ricky leaned forward, and I wassurehe was going to kiss me this time, his gaze locked on mine. Closer. Closer. Clo?—
“Enrique? Por favor, could you help me with this tray?”
His gaze snapped from my face to the porch where Sofia was standing in the doorway, a laden lacquered tray in her hands. “Tia, you didn’t have to bring the whole pitcher.”
“You boys looked thirsty. What was I to do?”
“Stay there. We’ll drink on the steps.”
The two of us climbed the gentle grassy slope. Ricky relieved Sofia of the tray and set it town on the porch at the top of the steps. He nodded at the rocking chair that was drawn up next to the railing. “You sit. I’ll pour.” As she settled herself on the colorful embroidered cushions, Ricky said, “Tia. Why are there only two glasses?”
She folded her hands in her lap. “I am not the one who has been working all morning.”
“Nevertheless, you can join us.” He turned to me, the pitcher in his hand. “Maz, would you mind grabbing another glass from the cabinet?”
“No problem.”
I toed off my badly battered sneakers at the threshold—hey, I wasn’t about to wear my marginally less battered Converse to garden in—and walked inside, pushing the door closed with my hip. I couldn’t contaminate Sofia’s pristine kitchen or open her cabinets, let alone collect a glass, with hands that had beensweating inside suede gloves for the last two hours. I’d been in Sofia’s house often enough by now that the route through the living room and down the hall to the bathroom was familiar, but all the way, I mentally kicked my butt.
