Page 36 of Boardroom Ties
“I know. That’s why I do it.”
She sighs and goes back to her pancakes. The bruise on my cheek has simmered down to a faint yellow crescent, nothing a bit of concealer can’t hide. The stitches dissolved last week, right on schedule. I have a tiny scar, but that’s alright—I collect those for a living.
“He’s being good, though?” Dani asks, careful.
“Way too good,” I confirm. “He brought me flowers on Monday. Took me out to Il Mulino on Tuesday. He pulled out my chair for me and everything.”
My cousin shudders. “That’s creepy.”
“That’s Raymond for you.”
I pick up my coffee, take a sip, and almost spit it back into the cup. It tastes like someone wrung out a dirty sock into the French press. I set the mug down and push it gently to the far edge of the table, eyeing it warily like it might bite me if I glance away.
Dani watches the whole thing with a frown. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Coffee’s just off.”
“Mine’s fine.”
“Well, mine isn’t.”
Dani squints at me, then at the coffee, then back at me.
“What?” I say.
“Nothing.”
“No, what?”
“Nothing. Eat your eggs.”
I poke at the eggs. They also look wrong. Too yellow, too wet. I look away from the plate and my stomach does the same nauseous little somersault it’s been doing all week, the one I keep blaming on the radiator in the bedroom, or on the Thai food from Sunday, or on general existential dread, which is always a convenient culprit for my problems.
I could also blame it on Matvei. Thoughts ofthatparticular problem have been a royal pain in my ass over the last two weeks since that unplanned encounter in the ER.
It’s embarrassing how often I come back to the same circular ruminations. I’m a grown-ass woman, not a hormonal teenager with a crush. But every time my mind wanders even half an inch off its leash, there he is, waiting for me in the dark, eyes burning blue like the hottest part of the fire.
Yuck.
I mean, no, not yuck. Very much yum.
But also,yuck.In a big picture sense of the word.
Primary goal for today, though—aside fromDo not dwell on Matvei—is “get through this brunch without Dani kidnapping me for my own good and/or calling the authorities to report Raymond for being the world’s biggest douche bag.” Easier said than done, because she’s like a bloodhound when she’s got the scent of drama in her nose, and that wary look in her eyes says Sarabeth’s smells likeUh-oh, something’s going on.
“Anyway!” I deflect brightly. “My problems are boring. I want to hear aboutyours.Has The Big, Hot Fireman let you play with his firehose yet?”
Dani nearly sprays orange juice in my face as she guffaws. “Excuse you, missy!” she gasps, dabbing at her chin with a napkin. “I will not be discussing Chad’s firehose over pancakes.”
“His name is Chad?”
“… It might be.”
“Oh, Dani. Oh, honey. No.”
“Don’toh Danime! He’s beautiful and he saves kittens for a living. He could be namedDipshitand I’d still let him get me naked.”
I laugh, which feels weird, because laughing sends a little ripple down into my stomach that makes me regret the single bite of eggs I managed. I set my fork down and reach for my water instead.
