"No, not at all," my sister agreed.
"I told you," I replied, my knuckles brushing Zelda's belly, "no one."
"So happy to be rid of her," my mother said, no longer troubling herself to lower her voice. "She was such acoldgirl."
"Someone," Zelda countered, tipping her head toward the onlookers.
"Oh, yeah, very cold," Magnolia replied. "Pretty sure her vagina doubles as an icebox. There's a half-empty pint of Phish Food in there. Some freezer-burned chicken breasts and a sack of peas too."
"Not anymore. Not to me," I promised, shifting us to block the commentary with my back. "Ignore them."
"Okay," she conceded, glancing down at my grip on her shirt. "If she's no one, then who am I?"
I opened my mouth to respond but I didn't have the words. They weren't there. All I had was her shirt in my fist and my fingers on her skin and this moment where she was here with me and I didn't have to quantify anything.
And how irrational was that? All I wanted in this world was to assign values to every second, every little thing, but if I did that right now—if I made a definitive statement about who and what Zelda was—this would end. It would have to end.
It would end because the other option was irrational, intangible, subjective. None of the things I understood. Nothing I could control.
"I thought it was going to be Linden," my mother said to Magnolia. "I thought he was next."
I couldn't let myself fall for a woman right now, regardless of whether she'd nursed me through the worst day ever or we'd argued about statistics and pocket eggs in the most spectacular ways.
I wanted to. I really fucking wanted to. But I couldn't.
"Mom, Lin is literally lost in a forest every day of his life," Magnolia replied. "He's not next."
I needed Zelda. I needed the woman who knew how to handle me. The one who understood my tics better than I did. The one who sparred with math.
"That is an exaggeration," my mother said. "He's notlost."
I needed her in my office. I wanted her in my bed, even if only to sleep beside her, but I needed her organizing my work and running my office. I'd spent more nights alone than with someone and I knew I could do that again. But I sincerely doubted I could keep my career—and sanity—alive without a serious infusion of support.
"It's not an exaggeration at all," my sister argued. "He's gonna need to stumble upon an actual Snow White for that to occur and she's gonna need to be a boss bitch Snow White too. No one who waits for the huntsman to take charge because that's not his gig."
"You're both wrong. Lin sees more tail than a dogwalker. Now, leave. Out you go," I yelled, still staring into Zelda's eyes. Still fisting her shirt. "Both of you."
When the door snicked shut behind them, Zelda repeated, "Who am I, Ash?"
My gaze dropped to her lips and I was gone. I was done. This was over, just fucking over. I moved my fist up, between her breasts. I allowed myself that moment, that fleeting, final moment before releasing her shirt. And then, "You're my assistant, Zelda."
She glanced down, nodding as she ran her tongue over her teeth. "Do all of your assistants help you out of your clothes?"
"I believe the job description said something along the lines of 'other duties as assigned.'"
She tipped her head back, grinning at me. "Taking your clothes off, finding eggs and home fries, getting you out of a suit fitting," she said. "Those are the other duties you have in mind? That's what youwant, Ashville?"
Fuck no.
"Yes," I replied.
Here I was, thinking this was irrational when it was prime all along.
* * *
The home fries did it.If not them, the eggs. Or the coffee.
Yeah, the coffee. That'd had a hand in this, I was certain.
