“Why?” I turn her way again, only then noticing the twisted, almost tormented expression on her face.
Shit. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked.
“I don’t know,” she huffs. “Maybe it was because my mom was an addict, or it could’ve been my ripped, dirty clothes, or maybe it was because sometimes we’d run out of shampoo and my hair would smell funny. Or—” She sighs. “Honestly, there were a lot of reasons I wasn’t popular. That’s only the tip of the iceberg.”
Stomach knotting, I keep my focus fixed on the stovetop, cursing myself for upsetting her. For now, it seems best to just move on from the subject. When the quesadilla is perfectly browned, I slide it onto the plate. “Those are for your brothers.”
With a small nod, she takes the plates, and while she’s delivering them, I make quick work of preparing hers. By the time she comes back into the house, I’m already plating it and starting on mine.
“This is yours,” I tell her. “Head out and eat it while it’s hot. I’ll be there in a minute.”
She shakes her head. “That’s okay. I’ll wait with you.”
If we’ve got another minute to ourselves, I figure I might as well check in, even if I’m hesitant about how she’ll respond. “Do you still feel okay about everything?” It’s not the end of the world if she doesn’t want to work with me, but Idoneed the help. “The job, I mean.”
She inhales deeply and searches my face. “Yeah.” The word comes out slowly, drawn out, like she has more to say, so I wait it out while I assemble my dinner. “You’re not just doing this because you feel sorry for me, right? I…” She looks down at her nails. “I don’t want your pity. I can find another job.”
I flip the quesadilla in the pan, buying myself a minute to get the words right. Honestly, maybe I did offer her the job because I felt sorry for her, but Idoneed the help. I’ve just been putting it off.
But I can’t tell her that. She’ll never accept my reasoning if she knows my initial intention.
“I need an assistant.” Not a lie. “I haven’t had the time to find one, so when you said you needed a job, it seemed like a no brainer.” Also not a lie. “It’s a convenient arrangement for both of us, don’t you agree?”
“That’s true.” She plays with the ends of her hair, her fingers moving absently, like it’s a nervous tic. “But if at any point I’m not performing as well as you’d like, please tell me. I wouldn’t mind the opportunity to improve if that’s the case, but if my work still isn’t up to par, then fire me. Got it?”
There’s no stopping the grin that spreads slowly across my face. “I’m sure your performance will be more than satisfactory.”
If she catches my innuendo, she ignores it, which is for the best.
Once my dinner is plated, I snag a beer from the fridge and nod at the door. “We better get out there before my kid asks one of your brothers to marry her. Or worse, both.”
She throws her head back and guffaws. “Oh, God. Can you imagine?”
I shake my head. “I refuse to imagine it. She’s going to be a kid forever, lest I lose my sanity.”
At the door, she peers at me over her shoulder and smiles softly. “I think it’s too late for that.”
“Oh.” I arch an amused brow. “Are you saying I’m already insane?”
She shrugs and shuffles outside. “You said it, not me.”
“Go home, Halle.”
Without looking away from the dish she’s rinsing, she shakes her head. “No. You made dinner and now I’m cleaning up.”
Shaking my head, I swipe the dish from her and open the dishwasher. “No need. I have this magic appliance that’ll do it for me.”
Halle eyes the appliance with a healthy dose of skepticism. “Do those things actually work?”
I load another plate, trying not to show my amusement. “Yes.”
Her lips turn down in a hint of a frown. “I’ve never had one.”
Her answer freezes my movements. “Never?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t know if I could get used to using one.”
Wow. I’ve nevernothad a dishwasher. For some bizarre reason, that thought makes me realize just how privileged my life really has been.
