But now it feels like something is hanging over my head. So, I grab my phone and text mytío.
If you don’t figure out how to make what you did right with these people, I will never speak to you again.
Promise?
Neither will my son.
Now wait just a goddamn minute. That’s not fair. You can’t withhold your cat’s visitation rights. I’ll call PETA on your ass.
Fix it.
How the fuck do you suggest I do that?
Oh, I see. You only don’t know everything when it means you have to do something you don’t want to do.
Fine. But you are actually going to owe me one for this.
Are you telling me that getting three hitmen off your back isn’t reason enough?
I tried that olive branch shit with them already. Didn’t work. Sorry, enana. Piper’s gotta be paid for this one.
Fine.
Really? You’ve never agreed to a deal before.
Never for myself, no. But some things are worth sticking your neck out for.
38
Madison
Do you know what I mean when I say you’re mine?
The door creaks as I open it, and I find my man in a dark room lit only by the semicircle of screens surrounding him.
“Careful.Gringolike you, you’re gonna need sunscreen for all that blue light,” I joke.
He looks up. “Madison.”
“I’m turning on the light, so gird your loins,” I warn him.
He winces as the room brightens suddenly, shielding his pupils from the pain of rapid dilation. I wonder how long he’s been tied to that office chair—my money’s on hours. I bet he hasn’t gotten up since I left him there yesterday afternoon.
I settle onto the couch, and he spins, watching me with a careful look. His hair is askew, like it’s been ruffled and tugged in frustration, and his dark circles are stark slashes under his eyes. Yeah, he didn’t sleep a wink. Poor guy. I beckon him with a wave of my hand, patting the cushion next to me. “Come here, please,” I say, dropping my voice and imitating his accent.
Some of the dread leeches out of his face, and he crosses the room. The second he’s settled in his seat, I throw my leg over his and straddle him, facing him. We’re nearly eye to eye like this, and he reaches up to tuck a green forelock behind my ear, like he always does.
“Hi, Nerd,” I say, smiling softly.
He grabs my waist with both hands, squeezing. The rest of the tension relaxes off his face. He’s finally realized this conversation is going to go well for him. Good—I wasn’t trying to leave him in suspense. I don’t want him listening with half an ear because he’s worried about what I’m going to say. I want him locked in.
“Hello, my love,” he replies, a whispered entreaty.
It’s a question. Am I? Am I stillhislove, after all this?
I lean forward and snuggle into the side of his neck. Skin to skin, grounding ourselves in each other. I inhale his scent, feeling a stirring between my legs that’s basically Pavlovian at this point. But that’s not what this is about.
“I’ve been thinking about your past.” He stiffens, but I continue, zagging when he’s expecting a zig. Being the one to apologize when he’s expecting to have to do it—call it the Nicole effect. Not that I’m apologizing, I’m just… making things right so he doesn’t have to. I’m a giver like that.
