I meet Trent’s eye and a smile gradually cracks its way through my icy façade.
“What does the glitter mean?”
When I open my mouth to brush the worry aside, the truth falls out instead. “Someone’s sent me a few cards, but I’ve visited the police. They’re going to stop them.”
Trent holds up his hands, specks of metallic crimson dotted across them, along with grass stains and dirt from the lawn. “Doesn’t seem like they’re on top of it.”
“Give them a chance,” I snap back, my unreasonable temper rising again. “I only reported him today.”
“Him who?” Finley asks, arriving with a cake box that she unceremoniously dumps in the middle of the table. “I live here, too,” she prompts when I don’t immediately answer. “If someone’s coming after you, they’re a threat to me as well. It’s not fair to keep it secret if you’re endangering me. I’m too lovely to die.”
“Far too lovely,” Trent agrees.
I hate this. It’s a thousand times worse than the police station and that was bad enough. I place my palms flat on the table, holding me steady, like we’re in a monstrous storm at sea instead of calmly sitting inside.
“There’s a guy who abused my mother, years ago. He’s out on parole and any contact is against the rules of our protective order.”
“And he’s sending you cards?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know if it’s the same person.”
“Yeah,” Finley says, cutting the cake into pieces and helping herself before shoving the box towards me. “Because coincidences happen all the time.”
She doesn’t hide the sarcasm.
“It could be. If they didn’t happen, we wouldn’t have a word for them.”
“What’s inside the cards?”
“Glitter,” I say, taking a piece of cake because it looks absolutely delicious and judging from the sounds Finley’s making, it tastes good, too. “It’s a plain white card with a watercolour love heart and crimson glitter. It could just as easily be a client who caught some feelings.”
I haven’t said those words aloud before and the moment I do, I think of Harry. Lonely Harry trying to do the right thing by his son and not drag a dozen applicants for wife in front of him until he’s ready.
“That doesn’t make me feel any safer,” Finley says around her mouthful. “This is delicious, Trent. I’m sure Lily would’ve loved it if she were here.”
“Aren’t you having any?” I push the cake box towards him, holding a slice with my other hand. “There’s plenty.”
“Nah, I’m good, thanks.”
I put the slice back in the box.
“There’s nothing wrong with it,” he says with the first note of exasperation creeping into his tone. It makes a change from his passivity but I’m not sure it’s an improvement.
“Changed my mind, that’s all.”
“I’m happy to be the canary,” Finley says, helping herself to my discarded piece. “Some things are worth dying over.”
“I’m watching my diet,” Trent explains, pushing the box back towards me. A new battleground. “Coach gave me an eating plan and I can’t afford to break it, mid-season.”
I nudge the box back towards him. “One slice won’t hurt.”
His face sets. “I used to be overweight, and sugar was a big part of that. One slice can definitely hurt.”
“You’d look good with a dad bod,” Finley comments, unperturbed. She sneaks a hand out to clutch him near the waist. “Get a few inches to grab hold of here, and you’ll make some random woman very lucky.”
I glare at him, locking gazes and waiting for him to submit first. Instead, his chin juts out, a stubborn streak showing up in equal portion to mine. Typical. I teased him about being competitive last time we met and now we’re stuck in the middle of a duel. One I don’t want to lose.
Finley flaps a hand like she needs to cool herself. “Wow. You could cut the sexual tension with a knife. Is this what counts for flirting over in hetero land? I’m starting to see the appeal.”
