“That right there is what I’m worried about.” Rafa points at me. I blink a couple of times. “What?” “That look on your face.” “What are you talking about?” He replicates an expression that sure as hell can’t be mine. I toss a crumpled napkin at him. “No mames1.” “I thought you were over her.” “I am. I was just…” “Reminiscing?” “Thinking,” I correct. “Please consider doing more of that, because clearly you haven’t been lately.” “Helping Dahlia get over Oliver is the right thing to do.” After all, I’m the one who introduced them to each other.
