Page 225 of Darling Venom
I hesitated. “Is everything okay?”
It came out as a whisper. Mostly, because I wouldn’t put it past Tate to fire someone for breathing too loud. Talking about her boss behind his back?
Definitely a fireable offense.
“He’s been… a lot lately. He hasn’t been like this since I started working here.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Almost four years, give or take a few months.”
After Kellan’s death, I noted.
I doubt anyone told her, too.
Suicide was like that. A taboo subject. When someone took their own life, people spoke about it in euphemisms. I knew all the phrases well.
Passed too soon.
At peace now.
Died of a tragic incident.
Or, the alternative—refusing to speak about it at all.
Either way, it was a hard thing to confirm. One look at her, and I could tell she had no clue. That she found Tate to be a live wire without a source.
She scratched her cheek, opening and closing her mouth.
I put her out of her misery. “Do you have something you want to ask?”
“Do you know Dr. Marchetti well?”
I shrugged. “Well enough.”
“Is he always like this? He’s been cold from the start, occasionally taxing, yet he still managed to be fair. But the past few months…”
He’s spiraling.
“It’s me,” I lied.
Well, partly.
I’d barged into Tate’s life and pushed every single button, every single boundary I could. That spiral had bits and pieces of my name written on it.
It was up to me to fix.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. I gave him a hard time. He’s reacting to it. I’m sorry if it’s been making the office situation tense. I’ll do my best to make it better.”
“Are you guys, like… dating?”
Are we?
I tilted my head, aware of our age gap for the first time in a while.
“We’re… something.” I lifted the takeout and pointed to Tate’s office. “Food’s getting cold.”
