Page 217 of Power Play

“You own exactly zero edible flowers, Ryan.”

“Because I have self-respect.”

“Your kitchen contains three completely unrelated mugs and one skillet.”

“It contains food.”

“Barely.”

He pointed toward the avocado. “What’s that?”

“Produce.”

“Exactly.”

“You’re exhausting.”

“You like me.”

I put the plate in front of him and poured another cup of coffee for myself, ignoring the toast I had made for me.

Ryan inspected his breakfast. “There are no flowers.”

“I told you.”

“I was checking.”

“Uncultured.”

He took a bite and chewed while I waited.

“Well?”

“It’s good.”

“That sounded physically painful.”

“It’s avocado on bread.”

“You own the avocado.”

“Avocados belong in tacos.”

“They’re allowed multiple career paths.”

Ryan laughed and took another bite. His attention moved briefly to the untouched toast beside me, but my phone lit up on the table before he could say anything.

I didn’t touch it.

His eyes shifted toward the screen. “Wednesday?”

“Probably.”

“You want to look?”

“No.”

“Good.”