Page 94 of Regal Feather
“I’m looking forward to working with you, Santos.” She shook my hand and smiled more brightly than she’d been doing all throughout the appointment. “If you just hang on to talk to my receptionist, she can set up a next appointment for us.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I cringed.
She didn’t react to it, but…
Fuck.
I was a civilian now. She wasn’t my superior. No one really said sir or ma’am outside of the military.
Unless they were into kinky stuff, but obviously that did not apply here.
Fuck.
“Sorry.”
“There are worse slips.”
Huh. So, she had a sense of humor. I supposed that was a good thing. Wasn’t it?
My head was throbbing by the time I parked the car inside the garage that was attached to the villa. It didn’t usually bother me, but Ever might be rubbing off on me. He was more disdainful about the state of this neighborhood, when he was having a bad day for any other reason.
He was also in the middle of…cleaning.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” He didn’t even glance up. “I spilled a glass of juice, and the cleaners already think I’m too much of a mess even when I keep telling them not to bother with my room.”
They didn’t, but I got what he was saying. With the two of us, and the fact that we didn’t have regular jobs or much of aschedule, it might’ve been doable to take on the maintenance of the place, but his parents coddled Ever. They would never make him lift a finger if they could hire someone to do it for him. Ever was aware. He grumbled endlessly about his privilege, and how he hated it but at the same time didn’t think he’d even want to survive in today’s society without it. I mostly nodded along and snuggled him close when he was in the middle of those rants.
It wasn’t as if I didn’t know about privilege. The silver spoon I was born with wasn’t as shiny, but there wasn’t a big difference between my family’s net worth and his. Hell, for all I knew, mine was bigger—sans the blue blood attached to his and the protocols and expectations that came with it.
“Want some help?”
For a second, it looked like he was going to say yes. Back in middle school, I used to tease him for it. For how he pretended he was against everything his family represented, but he was the first to step away the second discomfort settled in. Now, I just smiled like a fool as he recovered and shook his head like the stubborn guy he could be.
We made quite a pair.
“Uh, no. I’ve got it. And I mean, you had your therapy thing. I should be asking you. Ugh.”
“Breathe, babes.”
If I let him ramble, he would do it, and then he’d be out of energy for the remainder of the day.
I thought I’d be too exhausted, and I was, in a way, but that need to protect wasn’t fading along with the rest of my energy. The headache that threatened to become a migraine soon didn’t exacerbate because he looked like he needed a hug, or because I was itching to pull him into one.
Or because I gave in to the urge and cut the distance between us, forcing him to drop the cloth he’d been using to get all of the juice off the glass table.
I really didn’t understand the appeal of tables that wouldn’t be able to withstand any amount of weight and cracked with only looking at them.
“I’m good,” I breathed against his hair. Ever slumped completely once he didn’t have to hold his weight. “I have two more appointments next week, but it’s good.”
It would be, at least.
I hoped.
Thinking about it was not going to help or put me on a better mood for Tuesday. Focusing on Ever might.
