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“Well, that’s boring.” Her lip juts.
She’s…precious.
My hand lifts, but she snaps, “Touch my hair and die. Literally. I will hire people to find me an assassin and then I will hire that assassin.”
I dig my fingers into the hay at my side.
Her eyes close.
I lose all sense of self, watching her.
A shallow sigh slips from her lips before she murmurs, “I’m still getting my bread off the discount cart. Walmart doesn’t need your money.”
“True, but a small local bakery might. Just imagine. Fresh in-date bread.”
“I resent every word you just said.”
I bury my hand deeper in the hay, let it prick my palm. “Sorry.”
“Mostly on account of your correctness. I’m rich now. I get to be pretentious and shop at farmer’s markets. What will I do with my love of bread cart now?”
“I don’t…think shopping at a farmer’s market is pretentious.”
“Whole Foods? Earthfare? Fresh Market?”
I let my tongue roam my cheek. “All perfectly normal locations that regular people often shop. They could not be supported on rich people alone.”
“I’ve got it. A private health food co-op. Where you need a membership card to enter the building and old ladies provide unsolicited information about how honey isn’t vegan, so they only ever use agave nectar, while you search for your almond flour and sesame snacks.”
“Pumpkin.”
Her eyes open to find mine.
“You’re my assistant. You know where a billionaire shops. You do my shopping for me.”
She blinks. “Oh. Right. You have me order through Marsh Delivers Fresh. You narcissist.”
“Back when my father launched the grocery delivery service, I wanted to name it MarshMallow.”
She snorts. “How dare he crush your creativity.”
“Indeed. My genius has been squandered since my youth. It would have had a little logo with the double M’s, which is the sound you make when something is delicious.”
Another laugh escapes her. “You’re so…” She sighs and turns her attention back to the sky. After several moments, she says, “Don’t stare at me.”
“Sorry.” I also tilt my head to take in the sky. Out here, far enough from the city lights, the sky is a tapestry of glittering jewels that sprawl on and on into places money can’t hope to afford.
Not looking makes the weight of Marcella’s head in my lap far more present. With every bump and shift, I find it harder to breathe.
“MarshMallow,” she whispers into the growing darkness. “That should have been your Stardew name.”
“It carries too many bitter memories.”
“Is that a joke, or should I apologize?”
“It’s a joke.”
The most palpably dry and forced chain of laughs ever leaves her. “Your dreams were crushed. So funny.”
