Page 249 of Darling Venom
Publishers Daily
By the time I made it to my brownstone, I couldn’t pinpoint why an anchor had settled in my stomach.
Doubt. Regret. Nostalgia.
All the above?
If the ads were to be believed, people loved the book, which should’ve made me happy. All it did was pummel the reminder into me that Kel wasn’t around to witness it.
And that’s what you get for trying to save the planet.
You bought a car for a fucking reason. Use it.
The idea to burn the world dow
n before it had the opportunity to burn me seized my mind. I slammed the front door, ending the fantasy before I could draw up a blueprint.
Charlie sat on the couch, her laptop balanced on her knee. When she caught sight of me through the slot connecting the kitchen and living room, she slipped her earbuds out, closed the screen, and approached me.
We met at the center, where the ends of both rooms kissed.
I cleared my throat. “I saw ads for Darling Venom when I got out of my stop in the subway.”
“They’re amazing, aren’t they?” She stood on her tiptoes, pressing her lips to the column of my throat because she could. “Someone at Kirkus said they haven’t enjoyed a book that much since Viet Thanh Nguyen’s The Sympathizer.”
“Never read it.”
“’Course you haven’t.” Her brow arched. “I never took you as the subway type.”
“My Lexus is getting a tire change, and I made the mistake of passing up on a cab.”
She kissed my Adam’s apple and stepped back, just as footsteps thundered into the hallway above us.
Terry materialized at the base of the staircase with a packed bag and the handle of his typewriter case clutched in his other fist.
He looped the duffel around his shoulder and turned to Charlie. “See you in a few days, Miss Richards.”
I eyed his get-up, noting the slicked-back hair and a scent I’d never smelled on him before. Soap. “Aren’t you supposed to be working on Kellan’s manuscript like you promised Charlie?”
“This a new addendum to the terms of my stay?” He waited for me to answer.
I didn’t.
Neither did Charlie.
“Well, then.” He tipped an imaginary cap to me. “I’ll be going now. I hope that’s okay with you, officer.”
Charlie nodded toward his bag. “Where are you going?”
“A writer’s conference.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Which one?”
“Why?” He sent me a wink. “You worried ’bout me?”
“Worried about them. It might be my moral duty to call them up and warn the attendees to keep their eyes peeled for you and your favorite ten-finger discount.”
Charlie elbowed my ribs.
