As we bounced through the LA toward donuts, I sighed and asked, “So how often does Mal go to these meetings?”
Silence met my question.
I saw the driver—whoever he was—dart a glance at me in the rear-view mirror.
After a long moment, Naomi cleared her throat. “That, uh, sounds like a question you should ask Mal. I don’t talk about my boss with anyone.”
I sat back, stunned at the subtle clapback.
So we weren’t going to be besties then.
“I want my phone back now.” It killed me, but I purposely left the please off my request.
“Just a second.” She tapped at the screen some more. Then she passed it back to me. “Here you go. I’ve turned offcommenting on all your profiles. You might want to go back and delete some of those engagement photos, though. If we’re lucky, they’re not all overthe Babbleryet.”
“I’ve got nothing to hide.”
“You say that now…” She gave a world-weary sigh.
Yeah, definitely not gonna be friends.
I sat back in my seat and thumbed through my photos while we waited in the drive-thru. It wasn’t like I’d posted a picture in my wedding dress. I think it was still hanging up in my old closet. I hadn’t wanted to pack it when I moved out. I didn’t want to touch it.
God, that felt like a lifetime ago.
“Let’s get a dozen assorted,” Naomi said from the front seat, snapping me back to reality. “Is that okay with you, Taylor?”
“It’s Saylor, with an ess.” Like she didn’t know since she was just looking at all my social media accounts and had booked my flight here. “As long as there’s a chocolate iced, I’m good with whatever. And a vanilla latte with soy.”
Again I left off the please. I was irritated over that Taylor comment.
Accepting my latte with a fake smile, I sat back with my drink in one hand and a donut in the other and counted the minutes until I could see Mal again.
I ached to call Paige and talk through all this insanity with her, but no way in hell was I doing that with this audience. Naomi might protect Mal’s secrets, but no guarantees about mine.
I’d gotten to the bottom of my latte by the time Mal came around the side of the church. His face was still thunderous, and I sighed. Apparently the meeting hadn’t helped. My heart ached. I really hoped he wasn’t blaming himself. He’d told me days ago Gio was avoiding his calls. Clearly there were problems there, and Mal shouldn’t take it all on himself.
He ducked inside the backseat with me and slammed the door shut. Naomi passed him a coffee I didn’t even realize she’d ordered for him.
“Where to now?” She offered the box of donuts to him.
He waved off the donuts but sipped the coffee. “Let’s head to the medical examiner’s office. They should be open by the time we get through the morning traffic.”
Naomi nodded at the driver, and we pulled out of the parking lot.
Mal stared out the window, his brows pulled together in thought.
I didn’t know what to say.
“The pictures from the airport are already up onthe Babbler,” Naomi drawled. “Do you want me to put together a post for your socials? Something about Gio and your marriage?”
Mal closed his eyes and sighed. “Let’s put together a post about Gio. Find a good picture of the two of us—preferably something from when we were kids. But don’t post it until I vet the caption.”
Naomi nodded, her thumbs flying across her cell phone screen. “And your marriage? That’s the current headline onthe Babbler.”
“I don’t give a fuck whatthe Babblersays.”
I gasped. It was totally involuntary, and I knew he was going through a lot at the moment, but it still hurt to be so summarily dismissed.
