Ugh. Chopping boards, mixing bowls, measuring cups. Every utensil needed sat in the sink. “We have maids for this.”
“In my kitchen?” She snorted.
Okay, she still owned a stink face, despite marital bliss and domestication. “So … Momma, what’s with your worse half? Pop loves chicken and dumplings and y’all’s UFC matches in the kitchen—which I cannot stand. He seems …”
This was the part where she inserted an accurate response. Well, should’ve. Instead, she froze.
“Oh, Natasha, Dr. Ghannam called.” Her forced smile softened as she changed the subject, overshadowing Pop’s problems. She grabbed my hands, and we jumped up and down. “Ghannam told me all about his team’s amazing discovery. Updates to the compounds in chemotherapy drugs that will help patients feel less queasy. I remembered wanting to take the nausea from you, baby.” She hugged me, moaning deep for the times I threw up. “Let’s celebrate tonight.”
“Rain check?” I tapped a Converse against the marble floor.
Momma’s ombré brow lifted. “Guess I’m irrelevant.”
“Momma,” I sighed. “Tonight, I’m hosting an event at The Red Door.”
“And your parents aren’t invited?”
“Well …”
Her arms folded. “How much food will be served at said event?”
“Enough to feed ten. Twenty.”Thirty? No clue. I turned on the faucet. “Lachlan’s family leaves for Scotland tomorrow. A bunch of festivals. He won’t get to go. Baseball. But if all goes well, we’ll have a big to-dodinner.”
“Don’t give me thatto-do about nothing,Cutie Pie.” She approached the sink while I poured soap. “Listen, baby, you’ve attended many MacKenzie events. Show them we raised you right. Be hospitable. However, I’d like to meet Lachlan’s family.”
“Soon.” And I smiled, hoping we all got along.
Sunken wicker chairsand couches gave The Red Door’s rooftop lounge a relaxed vibe. Crimson fire glass crystals sparkled in pits, and infernos writhed in the night—on low, for an aesthetic appeal in the summer.
The waitstaff stood in a line, hors d’oeuvres on platters, the only people up here besides me. I’d had a server place the Private Event pedestal near the elevator downstairs to deter our usual guests from their favorite area.
I inspected the food. “A good start. Let’s also make three of every menu entrée.”
The head assistant nodded.
“No.” I bit a hangnail, and it popped off with a sting. Nerves. So painful. “Just bring menus, please. Everyone can order whatthey want. Increase the music. Guests should arrive soon.” I turned away to answer my phone.
Lorenzo.
My thumb stopped a second away from accepting.Thank You, Jesus.This bad habit of answering everyone needed to end. The phone stopped. Then vibrated again. Him again.
I shoved the phone into the pocket of my flair leather skirt. Took a step.
A third call! My stomach knotted.Oh, I’m gonna give him a piece of my…
I answered before it went to voicemail.
“Natasha,” Vassilievich spoke, voice cryptic.
“Hey … How was school?” I fished, hoping to discern his mood.
“Didn’t go.”
“I thought you preferred Tuesday and Thursday. Instead of Monday, Wednesday, and?”
“I. Did. Not. Attend. Natasha! We need to talk.”
“Okay. I invited you up.”
