Page 80 of Shades of Grey & Gold

“Okay,” she says when I finish, ticking them off with her fingers. “So. No last name, no solo trips, no snooping, and when he says jump, we say how high.”

“He didn’t say it like that.”

“But that’s the gist.”

“That’s a reductive interpretation of a reasonable safety protocol given the circumstances.”

She blinks at me and sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, capturing a widening grin. “You really like him.”

I open my mouth. Maybe to protest, but before I can decide what to say she interrupts me.

“No, don’t—” She waves a hand. “You don’t have to confirm it, and you can’t hide it, I can see it. You just used the phrase ‘reasonable safety protocol’ to describe agreeing to follow mob rules without asking questions. That’s a woman in love, Max.”

“That is a woman who is trying to be rational about an unusual situation.”

“Mm.” She picks a piece of lint off her sleeve. “I brought Bart and your stuff for school. So, you’re going back?”

“Cal convinced me.”

“Oh, I’m sure he does thebestconvincing.” She waggles her eyebrows.

“So, I start in a couple weeks after the holidays,” I continue, ignoring her innuendo.

“That’s so great, Max, really. You deserve to finish! I’m so proud of you,” she says it genuinely and reaches out to squeeze my leg. “Where is Cal now?”

“Meeting with Nico. His brother. About the—” I make a vague gesture.

“Territory dispute.”

“Right.”

“That you helped him think through.”

“I was just applying what I know about—”

“You helped the mob boss figure out his mob problem.” She covers her mouth with her hand. Her eyes are shining. “Max. Oh my God. You are literally living inside an episode of—what’s that one show? The mob one with the big, balding Italian dude?”

“I’m living inside a very complicated situation that I am choosing to approach with optimism and pragmatism—”

Becca falls sideways onto the cloud-like bed, laughing without sound, her whole body shaking.

I roll my eyes to the ceiling and wait.

“Are you done?”

She kicks her feet.

“No,” she says to the ceiling. “Give me a minute.”

Bart gets up and puts his chin on the bed next to her face, and she wraps an arm around him, still laughing, and I look out the window, see the river and try to keep the smile off my face.

The door to the apartment opens down the hall. Cal’s voice, low, talking to someone, probably Gio. The sound of his footsteps, which I have apparently already learned, because I know it’s him before he appears in the doorway.

He takes in the scene—me, sitting on the bed, arms crossed, expression neutral. Becca—flat on her back, wiping tears from her eyes. Bart—already running over to Cal where he leans against the doorframe.

“How’s it going?” he asks while leaning down to pet the fluffy baby of a dog that looks up to him like he invented treats.

“Great.” I roll my eyes back to Becca.