“So there,” I said to my phone.
Snowball, who was snoozing in a combined circle of white and ginger fur in front of the stove (meaning Gingerface was the orange Yang to Snowball’s Yin), lifted her head to look at me.
“Men suck,” I told her.
She blinked.
“What sucks more is, I want to fall on his dick so bad, I’m probably going to stay here another two months…at least.”
Snowball laid her head back down and returned to snoozing.
Bah!
Because I had no choice (and for other reasons I absolutely refused to consider in that moment), I called Mr. Atkins back and requested he share the status of the cleanup, but not to worry, in the interim, I was good.
The bright side of that, Mr. Atkins was blatantly relieved.
After hanging up with him, feeling the cozy warmth of the stove, the crates right there for me to access, the colorful chaos and fertile green beyond the windows, understanding I’d be on a train tomorrow, heading to Battle, I was relieved too.
Argh.
I went back to work.
CHAPTER 14
THE TRIP
I was fuming.
I really didn’t want to fume in front of Battle’s sisters.
But damn, I was fuming.
It was the next morning, and it started with Tempie loading us up into the first-class (oh yes, I said first class) carriage of the train, and then we were off.
Although first class was only slightly posher than what the common people had to use, it was a lot quieter (there was only one other person in our carriage). And once we got rolling, they almost immediately came out with the snack cart, which was nicer (when, sometimes, you never got a snack cart offering in the regular class at all).
Within five minutes of embarking on our journey, I asked Tempie how much I owed them for the tickets.
“Oh, you can take that up with Battle,” she replied.
Did I decide in that moment to wait until I saw Battle that evening?
No, I did not.
I texted him, We’re away. How much do I owe you for the train tickets?
To which, immediately, he texted back, We’re not having this discussion.
Which of course made me text, Fine, then I’m buying dinner tonight.
To which, of course, he replied, Absolutely not.
To which, of course, I replied, Brace Mr. 1933. The little woman is buying dinner!
To which, of course, he replied, If you even look at your bag during dinner, you’ll beg me to end the tease.
To which…you get the gist, Are you sexually blackmailing me?
