Chapter 8
“Can I ask you the million-dollar question now?” Leila says. She sounds casual, as though she hasn’t been interrogating me, in her own subtle way, for the past three hours. But it is true that she hasn’t touched on the subject yet. She has held back. Undoubtedly waiting for me to finish that last glass of wine.
“What’s for dessert?” I joke. “Of course you can ask me that.”
She pats her belly, clearly not caring that it’s not flat. “Okay, fine, what’s for dessert?”
“You made it, so you should know.” I must have had more wine than I thought because I’m finding this exchange a little too hilarious.
“You made me make it, Isabel.”
“Please, call me Izzy.” I take a large gulp of water. “Isabel just sounds so… formal.”
“Maybe dessert can wait a bit, Izzy.”
“Sure.”
She takes a si
