She clears her throat, then says my name with intention—
“Don’t you want to check on Juliette?” I ask, cutting her off before she can interrogate me.
Nazeera hesitates, drawing back. “She’s napping.”
“Wake her up.”
“James—”
“How’s your house?” I ask. “Unheated? Unfurnished? Twin mattress still tossed in the middle of the living room, single bulb burning from the ceiling?”
She almost laughs. “I bought sheets.”
“Still in the bag?”
“Shut up,” she says, rolling her eyes. “You know I’m only here every couple of months, and when I’m here I’m usuallyhere. I don’t have time to fix it up.”
“You’ve got time now,” I point out.
“Are you asking me to leave?”
“Nope,” I say, shaking my head. “You stay. Hand over your keys and I’ll leave. I’ll even put those sheets on the mattress.” I pause. “Do you own a pillow yet, or are you still using a garbage bag stuffed with old laundry?”
“I did thatonce—”
“Save your lies for a different James,” I say to her. “An uglier, stupider one.”
“Okay.” She nods, pretending to be impressed. “Well, at least now I can tell Juliette that Warner was right to shoot you. If you’re going to be this weird about having a simpleconversation, the situation is worse than I realized.”
“Exactly.” I hold out my hand. “Give me your keys. Or wait—do you even bother to lock your door?”
“Look, you can’t do this.” She rests her elbows on the table, leaning forward to look at me. “You can’t fall for her. This is a really, really bad idea. You know that, right? Please tell me you know that.”
My heart stalls, then picks up speed too quickly. The sensation makes me so uncomfortable that my next words come out a little mean. “You know Kenji’s still madly in love with you, right?”
Nazeera noticeably stiffens, like I’ve broken an unspoken rule.
I have.
But she started it.
We both fall silent, sharpening our knives.
“There’s no happily ever after with someone like her,” she says, her eyes narrowing. “No matter what happens next, it won’t end with you cooking her dinner.”
My headache suddenly intensifies.
I clench and unclench my fists under the table, then roll my neck, trying to release the tension. “You know, you never struck me as a coward,” I say. “Why keep pretending you and Kenji aren’t meant to be together?”
“James—”
“And it’s not just me,” I say. “Everyone is confused. You’re here every couple of months. You manage to avoid each other in the beginning, but then your schedules inevitably collide,resulting in a series of emotional breakdowns. And then I sit here and picture you going back to your empty house with its one light and bag of sheets and I’m wondering if you wish things had worked out differently.”
Nazeera draws breath, enough to know I’ve done some damage. “Wow,” she says softly. “Direct hit. This must be serious. You must really be suffering.”
I drag my hands down my face, sitting back in my seat. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”
We’re both quiet for too long, unspoken tension building, straining the silence.
