Chapter Twenty-Three
Chaos ensues. People shout questions over each other, insults along the lines of “shut the f**k up” are issued, and there are even threats of bodily harm.
When they calm down a little, I say, “For those of you who don’t know, I’ve liked Art—that’s my husband’s name, by the way—for a while now.”
Gia, Honey, Blue, Fabio, and Olive look smug—they already knew about my obsession. Holly seems to be in her own world—no doubt gleeful that we’ve got eleven people on this call, a prime number. Mom and Dad look ecstatic—probably picturing a baby boy growing in my womb or something equally gross. Pixie and Pearl look pissed, as expected—none of us sextuplets like to be left out of juicy gossip.
“Art’s full name is Artjoms Skulme,” I continue. “He’s a ballet dancer. At least f
