Page 95 of Secret Husband
I just use the baby leaves off my Ficus plant. Tastes as good.
NoBo
See? Proves my point exactly.
NyQuil
I jest. Do not pull leaves off random trees and plants to add to your soups and stews.
I was debating whether to introduce my thoughts on truffle oil and how none of it came from an actual truffle, when the doorbell chimed. I checked the intercom and got a very pleasant surprise.
“Open up, Nazarov!”
I thought about donning a shirt and decided against. I would need all my weapons. My breath hitched with the excitement. She was mad but she was here.
She rolled her eyes when I opened the door. “Are you kidding me?”
“What?”
“You think this shirtless shit is going to win you any favors?”
Yet she was unable to stop staring. “I see a touch of drool?—”
“Can it, Nazarov. I am furious with you.” She halted. “Wait, is your dad here?”
“His nurse took him to the park.” I stood by to let her in, and she flew right by me on a mission upstairs. Was she checking to see if I was lying about us being alone?
I followed as she charged into my bedroom, but soon she was out again.
With a sweater.
Not even a nice sweater. This was an ugly Christmas one, given to me a couple of years ago by an old girlfriend.
She shoved it into my torso. “Wear this.”
“Are we going somewhere?”
“To hell if you don’t cover up those pecs.”
“Lauren—”
“Wear it!”
I did as I was told, glad that the air-conditioning was on quite high.
She regarded me with disdain. “Now I need you to answer some questions, Nazarov. And none of your BS.”
“Okay.”
She paced for a few moments, hands on her hips. “Why didn’t you tell me you came to see my games?”
Isner and his big mouth. “It was just a few. When I was in town.”
“Oh, travel to Chicago often to take in a women’s pro hockey game?”
“I like to keep up with my favorite player.”
She pointed. “Don’t get cute. Tell me why you did that but didn’t tell me.”
