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But he did, and he’s going to pay brutally.
Mom’s eyes widen, go glassy, and then widen some more until they’re about to pop right out of her head. As they should—this isn’t small news.
Since things fell apart with Archer’s ex, no one’s brought a woman around for Mom’s approval. And the fact that Patton just dropped a tactical nuke means I might not walk out of here alive.
“Who?” she asks breathlessly. “Which one of my boys is getting married?”
Archer and Patton both look at me.
If I die tonight, I’m going out as a murderer.
11
SWEETEN THE DEAL (JUNIPER)
Ihaven’t hurt this much in—maybe forever.
My feet, my legs, and things I don’t even want to mention are about to fall off, pounded into soreness.
The Sugar Bowl is finally doing well, bringing in steady traffic and fresh faces. But that also means three times the workload.
Even now, as I drag myself up the stairs to my apartment with my laptop tucked under my arm, my day isn’t over.
Just a few more spreadsheets. A couple more supply orders.
Then I can sleep.
At least Catness is glad to see me, shuffling over and twining around my ankles with the same happy welcome mewl he always belts out.
I swoop him up and kiss his grey, stripey head.
“Silly boy, you’re slacking,” I say fondly as he purrs and blinks at me with those big eyes. “How’s that hole in the wall?”
Noticeably bigger.
Plus, there’s a second hole just a foot away on the other side of the wall.
Awesome. The mice keep coming and Catness takes too many long naps to keep up real guard duty.
As if I don’t have enough to deal with today.
Sighing, I microwave a can of chili and plod into the bedroom. I’m not usually a pajamas gal—I prefer sweatshirts and no pants—but today, I stuff myself into the fluffiest pajama bottoms I can find.
Bra off. Fully liberated.
Microwave dinging.
Now, for that boring admin work.
Thursday isn’t usually a wine day, either, but for this one I’ll make an exception. I crack open a bottle as I put the TV on in the background.
It’s weird, you’d think I’d prize peace and quiet after being surrounded by loud customers and whirring mixers and rowdy teenagers all day, but I hate silence.
The disconnection.
The distant sound of a city getting on with its business while I’m stuck here alone, still working.
God, it’s tragic.
