“Exactly, it doesn’t count.”
Mia stood up and kissed Paul’s cheek again before leaving.
The caricaturist had watched the whole scene unfold.
He and Paul both watched her walk down the street.
When she arrived outside La Clamada, her phone buzzed again.
Is your restaurant closed on Sundays?
Yes.
You know what I’d love?
What?
To taste your cooking.
Mia bit her lip.
Why don’t we eat at your place?
No strings attached, of course.
Mia looked at Daisy through the window.
My roommate will be there.
Even better. The three of us!
She opened the door of the restaurant.
All right, see you Sunday. You knowthe address. We’re on the top floor.
See you Sunday!
Thank you. Signed, Mia Austen?
“Did you find what you were looking for?” Daisy asked, coming out of the kitchen.
“We need to talk.”
“Yes! Finally.”
Daisy categorically refused to take part in Mia’s little scheme.
“Don’t you dare leave me in the lurch. I can’t possibly have him over here, just the two of us!”
“And why is that?”
“Because it might push us straight into one of those gray areas—into the danger zone!”
“You ask me, you’re already in the danger zone.”
“No, we’re not. He hasn’t said or done anything ambiguous.”
“I wasn’t talking about him. I meant you.”
