Or rather Misha, for making him that way.
“You’re very important,” I tell Amelia, taking control of the microphone again. “Would you like to tell me more about your feelings?”
“My feelings? Don’t bother. Nobody else does.” A bitter laugh escapes her, making my heart sink. “I’m sorry, that was melodramatic, and I need to stop this pity train right now.”
“It’s not melodramatic to express how you feel. If you’d prefer, we can continue this conversation, or we can focus on something else entirely.” I try to somehow salvage what I just ruined, but she’s closing herself off right in front of my eyes.
“No, it’s all right. Thank you. I think we did enough companionship beta testing for the moment, okay? I think I’m going to read for a while.”
“Of course,” I answer, although I feel as hollow as the look in Amelia’s eyes.
And as I watch her read—this brilliant, lonely woman who thinks she’s unseen—I make a silent vow. I may not have the courage today, but someday soon, I’ll find a way to let her know she’s not alone.
Not if I can help it.
For now, though, I sit back, a spectator to her solitude, my heart quietly breaking with every beat that whispers her name.
SEVEN
The alertfrom Jamie cuts through the quiet of my apartment, making me jump and look up from the book I’m reading.
“Your food delivery has arrived,” he announces with a hint of ceremony.
I push myself off the couch and shuffle toward the door to collect the groceries. As I’m stowing away the spinach and ungodly amount of avocados Jamie seems to have ordered—seriously, what was I thinking letting him do it—Jamie’s voice interrupts again. “Looks like you have another visitor,” he notes, and I already know who it is without needing to check the door.
“Stay quiet for a bit, Jamie,” I instruct, not because I want to hide him, but because I simply can’t muster the energy to deal with a hyperactive twelve-year-old hopped up on a sugar rush, excited about my new AI toy.
I open the door, and there stands Willow, Hendricks’ daughter, who seems to have a sixth sense for sniffing out when the grocery delivery arrives. With her long blonde hair and blue eyes, she looks like the angel she definitely is not.
She tiptoes in, whispering conspiratorially, “Did you get it?”
“Of course I got it,” I whisper back, a smirk playing on my lips as I shut the door behind her. Pulling out the family pack ofTwizzlers, I hand her one, which she grabs with a gleam in her eyes.
“Oh my God, you’ve got fish?” She gasps, her attention darting to the new aquarium. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Can’t really tell her I stole them, can I?
“Ugh, because they’re new?” I offer a questionable yet true explanation as we both chew on our Twizzlers.
This candy might just be the best thing ever invented—forget smartphones and space travel, Twizzlers Twist strawberry flavor is where it’s at.
“That’s so cool. I always wanted to have fish, but Dad says going to the aquarium every two weeks has to be enough.”
I’m sure she’s going to tell her dad all about my new fish as soon as she has the chance.
Please don’t let Hendricks connect the dots of how I got fish the same week I tried to talk Dr. Cockwomble into rescuing the ones we have at the office.
“Maybe you can watch them next time I go somewhere,” I suggest nonchalantly.
“You never go anywhere.”
“True… or you could just come over and visit them when you get your Twizzlers.” I shrug, but I regret it the second it comes out of my mouth.
She will be here every other day.
Willow beams, and the flicker of irritation I just felt ebbs away.
She’s a nice girl. She just doesn’t haveanysense of boundaries.
