"You own a skincare brand?" Phoenix asked, his fork paused halfway to his mouth.
We were all gathered around my kitchen island, plates balanced on the smooth stone surface. Elio had cooked—something fragrant and rich that smelled like the meals our mother used to make, back when she still could. The food had been so good that none of us had spoken for the first few minutes, too busy eating to form words.
Now, with our plates mostly empty and our stomachs full, the conversation was flowing.
"Yes," Elio replied, leaning back in his chair with the satisfied air of someone who knew exactly what was coming.
"What's the name?" Jamie asked, reaching for his glass.
"Tomega," Elio said.
I snorted into my water. "What kind of brand name is that?"
Jamie's head snapped toward me. "No freaking way," he said, his eyes wide. "I love that brand."
"Same." Phoenix set his fork down with a clatter. "The moisturizer is so good. It's the only thing that works for my skin during winter."
