Page 66 of Business Casual
I sit like that, breathing, for a while. My hands slowly relax from clenched fists and my thoughts slow to a trickle. I watch a brilliant red cardinal just outside the window, sitting on the edge of a bird feeder. He pecks at something on the ledge, spreads his wings, then flies off.
It would help if I opened the window. Fresh air always wipes away some of the fog in my mind. But I can’t seem to make myself move from this chair.
Lucy asked me what I deserve and maybe this is it. Maybe this isexactly what I’m meant for. This chair in this kitchen in this house that I do not own. In a place I do not belong. With friends who are my sister’s friends but who I’ve claimed as my own. So far away from New York and all the things that should be my responsibilities. The life I’ve built there, trying to edge my way out of my father’s shadow.
While all I’m doing here is shrugging on a jacket that doesn’t quite fit.
Nova’s voice:Is that what we are?
I’ve got no fucking clue.
?Someone knocks onthe door of the cottage around dusk. The only source of light in the kitchen is sunlight slipping through the windows, painting everything a burnt, dusty orange. The table is more organized, but my brain is not. I spent the entire day hyperfocused on crossing things off my to-do list, and I didn’t stop for lunch. Time became a fleeting concept, a vague awareness.
I feel it when I stand and shuffle my way to the door, my body creaking and knees popping. I don’t know who I’m expecting, but it certainly isn’t Nova on the second step up to the porch, a box from Matty’s in her hands and a cute black beanie on her head. Her blond hair is in loose waves around her shoulders, cheeks flushed in the melting daylight. She frowns when she sees me.
“You shaved your beard,” she says.
I rub my knuckles against my smooth cheek. Sometimes it helps me restart when I rely on my routines. After my call with Selene, I did everything I usually do during a morning in the city, short a subway ride and an overpriced cup of coffee.
I skipped the suit too. I pulled on a Lovelight Farms hoodie and a pair of black sweatpants I think I’ve maybe worn twice. I don’t have much need for athleisure in the city.
“I shaved, yeah.” I nod at the pizza in her hands. “Are you delivering for Matty’s now?”
She glances down at the box like she forgot she was holding it. Her fingers tighten at the edges.
“New side hustle,” she says quietly with a quirk of her lips.
I resist the urge to fill the silence between us and lean my shoulder against the doorframe. She came here with something to say. I’m not going to rush her on it.
I’m also not going to make it easier for her.
She kicks at a crooked floorboard and blows out a deep breath. “I was a jerk last night.”
I shrug. She was honest. She held her boundaries. That doesn’t make her a jerk. “No, you weren’t. I pushed you and I shouldn’t have. You don’t have to talk to me about anything. I know the parameters of our relationship.”
I know my appeal. I’m the fun time. The break between more serious pursuits. The joke and the easy laugh. Nova made it perfectly clear what she wanted from me. I got carried away thinking I had a right to anything else. That she’d want me for anything else.
She blinks at me and climbs another step. I get a whiff of mozzarella and basil. My stomach rumbles in appreciation.
“I was a jerk,” she repeats. “I shouldn’t have said what I said.”
“Which part?”
“The part where I told you we weren’t friends.” Her head tips to the side, watching me. I do my best not to flinch. “I was frustrated with myself, and I took it out on you. I thought I’d make it up to you with pizza.” She lifts the box in her hands in silent explanation. “Can I come in?”
I fix a smile on my face and reach for something that feels familiar. “You never have to ask me to come,” I quip.
She frowns, her face softening. “Don’t do that,” she says quietly.
“Do what?”
“That,” she says again. “The performance.”
I dip my chin to my chest, a falling sensation in the pit of mystomach. Like I’ve just stepped off a ledge and I can’t tell where the bottom is. I sigh. “I don’t want pity pizza, Nova.”
“It’s not pity pizza,” she responds. “It’s pepperoni pizza.”
It’s a fight to keep the smile off my face. I wish she wasn’t so fucking funny. It would make a lot of this easier for me. “Cute.”
