Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 131459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Yes.
Sinister.
Damn.
“Tom is not having an easy time of things lately. There’s something up with his daughter,” I informed her.
She nodded again. “And he’s chosen poorly. The best thing to do when you make a mistake, however, is cut your losses and move on as soon as you can.”
“Can you let me broach this with him?” I tried.
She took a sip, eyeing me, then she said, “Oh, I see. You’ve refused him to be a part of your life for decades, you let him in, and then tell him, ‘By the way, friend, your girlfriend is a conniving witch. You need to cut her loose.’ Is that how it’s going to go?”
“Well, obviously, I was going to give us some time to feel out our friendship before I shared the bad news,” I retorted.
“Darling, listen to Mother. Operations such as this are best clandestine. Trust me.”
“And that says, ‘Let’s be good friends’? Me a part of doing shit behind his back?”
She looked aghast and held her martini glass to her chest in lieu of clutching her pearls.
“I’m not going to involve you,” she replied.
“Nora—”
“It’ll allllll be fine.”
“Nora,” I snapped. “He means something to me and I’m finally going to let myself have him. Maybe it’s not how I want him, but he saved then adopted four fucking cats today. No, kittens. For the next two years…or more…every stick of furniture in his house will be in danger of being ripped to shreds and every breakable belonging shattered. He can’t travel without making certain they’re cared for. He can’t wake up without one of his first thoughts being his babies need feeding. This could last for the next fifteen to twenty years of his life. He made that decision without blinking and had just gotten home from Petco when I called. He was considering buying a five-hundred-dollar litterbox. He’s that man, Nora, and I want that man in my life. So give me this without fucking it up. Please.”
“I won’t fuck anything up, baby,” she said softly.
“Well, thank you,” I bit out.
“I believe you need a martini,” she noted.
“I believe you’re right.”
“Can we still do the spa thing?” she asked as she rose, reaching out a hand to help me from my chair.
“Definitely.”
“Cadence must go with us,” she decreed.
“She’s here but still in school. She’s supposed to be studying.”
Nora rolled her eyes.
“Darling, I took my girls out of class for spa days at least twice a semester,” she informed me. “It’s exasperating to have to go in the evenings or on weekends when all the working riffraff is in the way. And a girl has to have a facial and all her bits waxed, and she shouldn’t have to wait for school breaks or mingle with the rabble to get them.”
She gave a faux shiver as she preceded me down the stairs.
“I don’t know if I love you because you’re so horrible and someone needs to love you, or if I love you because you’re so good at pretending to be horrible.”
“That’s me, keep them guessing,” she said breezily as she swanned toward the family room, calling, “Your mother has declared it Martini Time for all!”
I heard Cadence call back.
“Dope!”
Nora had been serving my daughter alcohol since she was sixteen.
Considering the fact she was already probably sneaking it with her friends, I didn’t mind. Her doing it with adult supervision and learning through example and consumption was a lot better than her getting blotto and being prey to whatever monsters were lurking out of sight of mothers.
Therefore, in that moment, I smiled.
And thought that Tom and I were going to be friends.
I kept smiling.
Because it wasn’t what I wanted.
I’m responsible for these animals now, Mika.
But I was going to take it.
CHAPTER 8
THE FRIENDS
Mika
It was Tuesday evening.
I was driving to Tom’s.
He was making dinner for me.
I was going to see where he lived.
I was going to spend an entire evening, just him and me.
And something was the matter with me.
Stopped at a light, I glanced, and my nav told me I’d be at his house in seven minutes.
I instantly felt worse.
Way worse.
I pushed some buttons on the screen on my dash and phoned Nora.
Her voice filled my car.
“Darling, why are you calling? Is everything all right? Have you arrived? What’s going on?”
“I think I have to cancel. I’m feeling weird.”
“I told you not to eat that fourth crab Rangoon last night,” she said.
“No. It’s not my stomach. I’ve got this strange”—I put a hand to my sternum and rubbed—“tightness.”
“Where?”
“In my chest. It’s kind of hard to breathe. Do you think I should find an Urgent Care?”
Nora didn’t answer.
“Nora?” I called. “I’ve never felt this way, and I don’t like it.”
“Darling, you don’t need an Urgent Care. You need to come to terms with the fact you’re human. You are the fabulous and fascinating Mika Stowe who owns every room she enters. But you are also Mika Stowe, female with female parts and female yearnings and female needs who’s about to have dinner with a man you want to pounce on, you want him to want to pounce on you too, and you’re scared he won’t want that. Or maybe you’re scared he will, and he’ll do something about it. In other words, you’re having a panic attack.”