“It does if you’re going to need me to cover a lot of driving shifts again like today. I learned the hard way that I can only survive on energy drinks for so long before I crash out, and I have too much to live for to crash out while on a road trip with you. No offense. There are other people in my life that I’d like to see again.”
The toilet flushes. I brace myself, fully expecting it to break or explode, but the only other sound I hear is sink water running.
“Oh shit, are you waiting to get in here? Sorry. I’ll hurry.”
That.
That part of her personality—the part where she’s considerate to other people’s needs—it’s new.
To me.
Margot always insisted Daphne was more misunderstood than self-centered, that she usually put other people’s needs before her own, but I didn’t see it.
Or possibly I didn’t want to see it.
The door swings open and Daphne grins at me. “All yours, Jeeves.”
“Jeeves?”
“You didn’t like Captain or Skipper yesterday. Jeeves is a good chauffeur name though, don’t you think?”
She isdefinitelyfucking with me on purpose now.
After today, I should be callingherJeeves.
“We’re not too far from town,” she says. “Do you have a credit card loaded to your phone? We could order dinner for delivery. Unless?—”
My stomach announces its current preoccupation with digesting the fish, and Daphne grins wider.
“Yeah, thought so. Don’t worry. The discomfort passes way quicker than you think it will.”
“I’m fine.”
“Lot of hurried late-night fast-food meals the past few years?”
Of course not, and she knows it.
I had a lot of late-night meals planned and delivered by a private chef that I could hardly afford.
It’s remarkable how pinched you can feel while having billions in holdings when you know your every financial move is being watched by someone waiting for you to screw up. Selling any part of my portfolio would’ve been seen as a signal that M2G’s financial crisis was getting worse, and taking anything beyond the barest salary would’ve been seen as out-of-touch and selfish.
Or possibly I was over-paranoid.
Overworked, over-stressed, over-paranoid.
Daphne waves a hand in front of my face. “Earth to Oliver. You okay, bud?”
I scowl at her. “Can younottalk for a while?”
She’s still smiling. “Unlikely, but I can try. It was a long day of not talking. Sometimes I need to get all of my words out, and I haven’t yet.”
“You’re sleeping on the couch.”
“Again? That’s…weirdly poetic.”
I squint at her.
“I’ve had a couch crasher myself all summer. He’ll be thrilled to hear I got a taste of my own medicine two nights in a row.”
