Page 96 of How To Plot a Payback

She’s frowning, but sure enough her eyes are a little less sharp.

She really is a bit mollified.

“So you two then,” she says, pointing between us appraisingly. Her eyes are narrow. “I can’t say I’m surprised. I’ve seen the way you’ve acted the past month.”

My eyes flicker towards Lavender to catch her expression, and I inhale a self-accusing breath despite myself. She apparently has the same idea, because our eyes meet and bounce off each other like atoms in a great cloud of steam.

Exactly which you is she referring to?

Sonya rolls her eyes as if to say, See? I mean, it’s obvious. But instead of explaining, she says in a disbelieving tone, “So you two. Plus your neighbor. For a date.”

“That’s right,” Lavender says, taking a step toward me and slipping her hand around my elbow. “It’s a cultural thing where we’re from. The tradition goes back hundreds of years.”

She looks to me, and I add, “I’ve read fifteen hundred, but we can beg to differ.”

“So . . . ,” Sonya says slowly. “Some kind of courtship thing. An eighty-year-old chaperone for you two adults . . .” She’s squinting now.

“He’s more keen on it than I was,” Lavender says and leans toward me. “He’s more traditional than I am.”

Sonya turns her attention to me with even narrower eyes. I hesitate but feel Lavender squeeze my arm.

“I’m very old-fashioned like that,” I chime in.

“Romantic,” Sonya says flatly.

Lavender bites her lip as she attempts to hold back a smile, and I feel a flash of inspiration as I add, “All my aunts have done it this way and were married off in the first six months. We call it the Brits’ Lucky Charm.”

I can’t help it.

I grin as Sonya’s expression grows alarmed.

Her eyes flicker over to Lavender as if to say, Do you need help escaping this lunatic?

Lavender, though, presses in deeper to my side and then tucks her chin towards me, looking up fondly as she murmurs, “Now wouldn’t that just be something?”

“Does tradition encourage a second guardian here? Because I’d like to volunteer,” Sonya says loudly.

My eyes lock onto hers, and simultaneously we say, “No.”

My face is tight from smiling and holding in the pressure that has built in my chest, caused by the urge to laugh. Lavender’s cheeks are burning red.

“Alright then,” Sonya says, curtly pushing her phone into her pocket. “Well, I’ll leave you two to it, so you can have your granny date and then call your parents with the big news.”

We give a stilted laugh and she gives a stilted laugh, and then she stops abruptly and points a finger in my face. “There’d better not be any big news.”

As Sonya walks (stalks?) off, I shift on my heel.

“Sorry about that,” I begin, just as Lavender starts with an apology.

We both give an airy, awkward chuckle, and she motions for me to go ahead.

“You said you needed help, so I took a leap. I . . . hope you aren’t offended.”

“Offended? It was brilliant,” she exclaims. “Oooh, time to wave.”

With her arm still wrapped around mine, we look up at Sonya in the distance. She has turned and is giving us a suspicious look. We wave.

“This’ll save you for tonight at least. I assume she’ll be calling you this evening?”