Page 63 of 10 Rings I Hate About You
I already knew what I’d said. Now I was about to have to say it in front of Delaney.
Gladys pointed to me. The woman was enjoying this all far too much.
“Delaney needs someone to stay,” I said. I kept my voice level. “Not to fix things. Just to not leave when she needs them the most.”
Delaney’s face went completely blank.
Not angry or defensive.
Just blank. Like a screen that went dark.
Had I gone too far?
Coco barked softly as though comforting Delaney.
“That’s not—” Delaney started.
“It is,” I said. Then, because the room was quiet and I couldn’t seem to stop myself, “I’m sorry that was ever something you needed.”
Delaney swallowed hard, then looked away.
Goldie made a small noise and Martha shushed her.
Gladys cleared her throat and consulted her clipboard very deliberately, giving us both a moment. “Delaney’s answer for Marc.”
Delaney’s voice came out steadier than I expected. “He needs clarity. He needs you to explain exactly what’s going on and what you expect of him.” She paused. “Then he can relax.”
She’d guessed correctly. I studied her. She was looking at the table.
She saw me clearer than I thought she did. “Most people just assume I—” I couldn’t finish the sentence.
“Don’t care,” she said quietly. “Yeah.” Another pause. “I know.”
The,I know,landed in a way I didn’t have a framework for. So I stayed quiet.
Martha’s eyes had gone suspiciously bright, which was alarming.
Glamma, for once in her life, said nothing.
“Last one.” Goldie placed a card gently on the table. “What’s a habit your partner has that they think no one notices?”
Delaney muttered something under her breath.
“Mushrooms,” I said.
Delaney’s head snapped up.
“You pull them out of everything and line them up on the edge of your plate.” I kept a straight face. “In a row. Like a firing squad.”
“They’re fungus,” she said, not able to fully hide the smile tilting the corner of her lips. “They don’t belong with food. They deserve a slow painful death.”
I grinned.
Delaney took a deep breath and regarded me the way she had earlier. Measuring. Deciding on whether to answer or not. “You separate your food.”
I froze.
“You’ve done it as long as I’ve known you,” she said. “You got better about hiding it. But you still do it. The mashed potatoes can’t touch the green beans, the green beans definitelycannottouch the protein.”
