“Where are you guys?” Ma repeats, louder this time. Closer.

Wren tells me that we need to go, even though her body tells me otherwise. But I’m afraid this can’t go on for much longer, unless I want my mother to find me fingering our ex-lawyer in our pantry.

Finally, I remove my finger from inside Wren. She sighs—in relief or disappointment, I don’t know. I suck on my finger to get all the taste of her I can get, then whisper, “This isn’t over.”

She turns around, facing me now, and the look in her eyes tells me exactly what I hoped she was thinking: I hope not.

* * *

“This tastes amazing,” Wren says as she takes a bite of albóndigas guisadas. After we got out of the closet with the rice cooker and a bag of rice, Wren helped Ma cook the meal, but I guess she didn’t try to steal a bite while cooking. Of course she didn’t. She’s way too in control of herself for that.

“Thank you,” Ma says as Dad hums beside her, eating eagerly. His mood has been great in the past few weeks. I don’t know whether the legal case being closed helped him or whether it’s his physical rehabilitation making him feel better, but the progress is undeniable. He still can’t pronounce more than the few words he’s gotten a handle on with his speech language pathologist, but I need to focus on the positives, so that’s what I’m doing.

“You’ll be able to make it too, now,” Ma tells Wren.

“Hopefully I’ll remember everything.”

“Well, if not, you can just call me.” Ma looks my way. “Or Aarón. He’s been watching me cook this since he was a kid.”

Was this supposed to mean something?

Wren nods before digging in again. While her mouth is still full, she stops chewing all of a sudden, grabbing her phone from her pocket. When she looks at the screen, she swallows forcefully, then declines the call.

“You can take it, if you want,” I whisper.

“No, it’s fine.”

“Come on, it’s okay,” I insist. She should feel as comfortable here as if she were home. At least that’s what I want for her.

She eyes me for a moment before getting up. “I’m so sorry, I’ll be right back,” she tells the rest of the family. We all tell her it’s fine before she disappears down the hall.

“Who is it?” Callie asks beside me, her mouth full.

“How would I know?” I answer.

It’s the truth. While we might have been sleeping together for the past month, that’s all it’s been. At least technically. Sure, she has opened up from time to time, but there’s still so much about her she keeps hidden.