The dragonfly darts away from Hawkeye before he snaps it up. He looks back at me with round eyes that say, ‘Look, Mom, see what I did?’
“Guy, I have about sixty tabs open in my brain right now. I don’t think I can pick just one to talk about.”
“Well, how about you close them and relax?”
Oh, if only that were how my brain worked. “Guy, I saw someone die today, who I knew was going to die. The police interrogated me. And worst of all, I didn’t get any cake. So, I’m not in relaxation mode tonight.”
“I’ll fix that,” Guy says. “Do you trust me?”
His question makes me pause.What’s he getting at?
“Maybe,” I answer honestly.
“Fair enough. Daphne, I want you to shut down all the tabs in your head. Let it rest for the night. I’ll take care of the cake. In the meantime, go upstairs and set up a bubble bath.”
I sigh but trudge up the stairs. “You know, self-care feels like a lot of work.”
Guy chuckles. “Well, sorry I can’t be there to do it for you, Princess.”
“Maybe you should. You’re the reason I’m stressed.”
“Well, hopefully my cake delivery will compensate for your stress. It’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
“Another food delivery?”Jesus, how high is Guy’s takeout bill?I barely earn enough to scrape by as a Scheduler for Furt, and I have no idea what Guy does for a living, but even I know takeout in D.C. is outrageously priced. A Big Mac is a luxury. God, I miss the dollar menu.
I wait for the water to reach the perfect temperature before I plug the drain and sprinkle lavender Epsom salts in the tub.
“So, we’ve got time,” I say. “What do you do besides kill people?”
“I can’t give too much away,” he says cautiously.
Leaving the water running, I make my way into a sparebedroom and pluck a dark romance off my bookshelf that’s been on my TBR for too long. “Give mesomething, Guy. It’s like you’re a ghost.”
“I work with dogs.” But he sounds like he’s not sure, or if he even knows what a dog is.
“So, like a trainer?” Hawkeye could use a couple of lessons.
No, wait. Not from him. Guy’s a damn murderer.
But what kind of murderer delivers cake as an apology for stressing someone out?
“I’m sort of a trainer. What about you? What do you do for fun, Princess?”
“I read.” I set up my bathtub tray that spans one end of the tub to the other. Placing my book right in the middle, I wait for the tub to fill to the perfect level.
“Romances?” Guy presses me, like he hasn’t seen my entire Wishlist already. “Like the ones in your review videos?”
“Yes.”
“You know, I’ve watched all your videos.”
Nope, I’m going to ignore the little flutter in my chest knowing that he’s seen my book content. Must be heart palpitations. Heartburn. Maybe I’m gassy. My body isnotreacting to the fact that Guy’s taken the time to watch my videos. That would have taken hours, days probably.
“I don’t understand,” he continues. “Why the wig and makeup? It’s obvious that it’s not your real look.”
“That’s the point,” I tell him. “I’ve spent my life in the spotlight. I don’t want something I love tainted because of who my parents are. It lets me be publicly anonymous.”
“Anonymity isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.” The sad note in Guy’s voice ripples through my chest, and I want to give him a hug. That sadness mirrors something deep in themarrow of my bones, like something dark in him is calling out to something dark inside me. The haunting feeling like I’d signed off on Brent’s death certificate hovers in the back of my mind like a mirror image of the things Guy’s done.
