“Oh, humor me, will you?” His good mood was irrepressible. “Before you punt poor Bryn over the castle wall, accept my gift. My congratulations on a job well done.”
Vivian rolled her eyes and reached for an apple slice. She kept her attention on a curious-looking Bryn when she spoke into the phone.
“Fine,” she said, relenting, before she crunched.
Two minutes later, Vivian was staring at the monstrosity waiting at her front door. The cellophane-wrapped behemoth was less of a basket and more of a wicker monument to gaudiness.
She hoisted it onto her hip like a chubby toddler and carried it out to where Bryn was sitting cross-legged on the patio sofa.
“Oh my God. What the hell is that?” Bryn’s wide-eyed expression was equal parts curiosity and awe.
“A minuscule token of congratulations,” Vivian said dryly before setting the heavy thing down on the coffee table across from the sofa.
Bryn reached for the gold tag hanging from the gold bow holding the gathered plastic together. She flipped it over and read, “‘To the only Maggie and Jo. Good work. — Harvey.’”
“All this for us?” Bryn scanned the tacky horn of plenty. “What the heck is in here?”
“Only one way to find out,” Vivian heard herself say when she should have replied with a flat,obviously.
Bryn tore through cellophane like the secret to world peace was waiting at the center. Vivian leaned back, arm resting across the back of the couch.
A bottle of Dom Pérignon reigned over a plethora of jars and pouches and boxes. At its ostentatious side, two Baccarat flutes withMagpiesengraved in the crystal. Probably delirious, Vivian imagined the small-batch cheeses, cured meats, handcrafted chocolates, imported olives, and gourmet popcorn were the subjects in Dom’s kingdom.
Jesus. She needed some fucking sleep.
“What, no caviar? What a cheapskate,” Bryn said with a laugh while she poked through the offerings. She pulled the bottle free to look at it. “I bet you have one of those fancy things that immediately chills stuff to the perfect temperature for optimal enjoyment.”
She did, but there was no way she was consuming another drop of alcohol for a few months. Not with the aura of a headache still looming.
“You take it,” Vivian said with a tilt of her chin. And then, as if she needed confirmation that exhaustion had taken all her brain cells hostage, she added. “Share it with someone special.”
Bryn’s responding high-pitched laugh made Vivian raise both brows. But the unexpected sound wasn’t responsible for the electric buzz in her fingertips warming her blood better than the steamy night.
“Oh, yeah. One of my three roommates would love—” Bryn stopped abruptly and this time the flush on her face made Vivian want to shift in her seat. Made her want to banish the unnecessary embarrassment.
“I once stayed in a decommissioned taco truck for an entire summer,” Vivian said without elaborating on how dark her days had gotten before she clawed herself back to stability. “So, if you have a private bathroom, you’re doing all right. Take the damn Dom.” She couldn’t absorb the way Bryn’s eyes softened. “And hand me those truffle crackers.”
Bryn beamed her gratitude like a spotlight. There was nowhere to hide from attention like that. It singed her edges anyway and Vivian fought the instinct to fold in on herself as the heat crawled up her neck.
“Sure you don’t want something a little more exciting?” Bryn shifted to the edge of her seat and looked through the basket. “Jeez, is everything truffle-infused?” she muttered before pulling out a sleeve of beautiful macaroons. She laughed. “Found one thing. I think even the freaking olives are dipped in truffles.”
“The crackers are fine,” she replied before adding, “and some cheese.”
Bryn’s delight was blinding when she held up two options. “Truffle brie or something that’s absolutely going to stink when we open it?”
“The one without living bacteria.” Vivian bit back her smile. “I only take my botulism by injection.”
Bryn laughed before passing the brie. “You could knock out Colonel Mustard in the library with this thing,” she said, hefting a silver cheese knife before handing it over.
While Vivian sliced the brie on a small board, Bryn went back to the basket.
“Hand-picked olives from France,” Bryn said before Vivian popped a perfect cheese and cracker bite. “Oh, tuna belly in oil.” She lifted a tin. “No cartoon fish on the box? Classless.”
Tearing through a bag of gourmet popcorn, Bryn leaned back to meet Vivian’s gaze. “What is the absolute fanciest meal you’ve ever eaten?”
Vivian finished another bite while she considered the question. She should send Bryn home with the basket and go to bed. She was tired and should have been at the end of her social battery, but she couldn’t make herself get up. Couldn’t force herself to say goodnight.
“There was a supper club in Napa,” Vivian heard herself say. “The chef’s identity was this big secret.” She rolled her eyes at herself, remembering how badly she’d wanted to be seen walking into the hyper-exclusive restaurant. “Reservations were impossible to get.”
