My heart’s lodged in my throat as I listen to the running water. Thankfully dots appear.
Alyssa:
That’s perfect. I need to pick up my daughter from her grandmother’s. I can meet up with you first, talk about the job, and we can go over to his house.
Felix:
Where do you want to meet?
Alyssa:
Why don’t we meet at Whipped. It’s a coffee house in town. Believe me, you’ll need caffeine if we’re going to be dealing with my brother.
The water’s still running.
Felix:
Brother?
Alyssa:
I’ll explain tomorrow. Text me in the morning and I’ll give you the address to the coffee shop. I’ll see you bright and early. Have a great night!
Felix:
You too.
I delete all the messages again before blocking the number, just in case she texts or calls later.
Shit! Pasta.
I rush over to the stove, grabbing the pot and draining it. I test one. The noodles practically melt in my hand. Maybe I can start a new pot.
“I’m starving.” I jump as he comes through the door into the kitchen. “Ready yet?”
“Um, yes, I uh, it’s a bit overcooked.”
He frowns. “How? You were fucking staring at it.”
“I might of um, when I came to see if you needed towels. I got distracted talking, and I?—”
The furrow in his brow deepens. “You’re blaming me?”
It hasn’t even been ten minutes. “No. No, of course not. I um, no, it’s just a little overdone. I can start a new pot and—” He comes over, looking into the strainer and grabbing a piece of mush. It breaks apart easily between his fingers. “I can’t eat this! How dumb do you have to be? The pot does the job for you.”
Steady. Just keep steady. “I can make more. It won’t take long.”
“Why are you wasting food? I know you sit at home all day not having to worry about a thing while I work. Shit costs money. Not sure if you’re aware.”
I don’t know how to get out of this. “Do you want to eat—” The strainer crashes against the wall.
“I work all fucking day while you laze around barely doing a thing. All you have to do is make fucking dinner. Is it that hard? Would you like me to do that too, your majesty?”
Don’t let the tears fall. It never ends well. It’s pointless. I blink back the sharp pricks of heat I feel. “No, no. I um, I’ll redo it. It’s not a big deal.”
“Not a big deal? I’ve been working since six this morningand the only thing I expect is a hot fucking meal, and you can’t even manage that right.”
I’ve had it. I don’t know where it comes from. I’ve had it. “It’s only ten minutes. I’m sure you’ll make it.” Nerves vibrate under my skin. I grab the pasta pot, and my ribs scream as he rips it away from me. Pain explodes on the side of my face.
