Page 60 of Wicked Fortune

“Actually, I thought you’d want to know that Ms. Parker hasn’t come in yet. As I’d feared, I don’t think she fully understands the depth of responsibility her job contains.”

“Nonsense. She’s so responsible she came here. It’s a working breakfast.”

“I see.”

For twenty-seven seconds, the line is completely silent. As it turns out, twenty-seven seconds is a lot more time than you’d think.

“In that case,” Lila says, continuing as if there’d been no pause at all, “ask her to stop by the Widow Bluff set on her way in. Accounting needs the cost overrun reports by the end of day.”

“Done,” he says. “Which also describes my omelet. I’ll see you soon, Lila. You can fill me in on the rest then.”

“You need⁠—”

But I don’t hear what else Matthew needs, because he’s tapped his watch again and the ceiling goes silent.

I glance up toward the hidden speakers and mics. “I can’t decide if that’s cool or creepy.”

“Cool,” he says, then flashes a tight smile. “Sorry about that. I’m sure you’ve already noticed that she’s a bit overprotective.”

“Understatement much?”

He gestures to the small table by the window, and I take a seat. He joins moments later with the omelet, some fried potatoes I didn’t realize he’d been heating up, and toast. He slides the plates onto the table, then leaves, returning in a few seconds with two carafes—OJ and coffee.

“I would have helped.”

“Maybe I like waiting on you. Besides, that’s everything. Unless you need ketchup or something?”

“Nope. I’m all good.” I start to pick up my fork, then hesitate. “Are you?”

“Am I what? Good?”

He sounds genuinely confused, and I shrug, feeling a little confused myself.

“Aria?”

“I—” I shake my head, feeling like an idiot. “I just—oh, hell. Is there … I mean, you and Lila. Is there something there?”

“No,” he says.

“But—”

“No.”

I nod, then focus on my meal. Which isn’t difficult since it’s freaking delicious. All of it. Omelet. Bacon. Toast. OJ. Coffee.

Coffee refill.

And then there’s no more food … which means no more distractions.

I lean back in my chair, my finger tapping a rhythm on the tabletop. He sighs, then reaches across the table to take my hand. “There’s nothing romantic or sexual between Lila and me.” His voice is soft. Earnest. “But there’ve been times when she’s made it more than clear that she wants there to be. And maybe even some times when she thought we were heading that direction. But, no. There’s nothing now. There hasn’t been anything for a very long time.”

“Oh. So there was.”

“We were in our early twenties. We were working together. It was casual, just one time. We were celebrating something.” His eyes meet mine, and I see only regret. “It didn’t last. The friendship did.”

“I shouldn’t have asked. It’s not my business.”

“Oh?” His eyes meet mine. “I kind of hoped it was.”