I hum happily as I type out a response.
Then I look in the mirror. Should I straighten my hair for this? Probably. Who knows who this guy Gran found for Kathy is. Might be one of those traditional men.
I see the little scrap of paper in the drawer with the flat iron. My stomach is sour as I unroll it.
Ticktock. I’m going to make you pay before I make you disappear.
Shit.
Winnie:Did you send this?
Fitz:No.
Fitz:Must be old.
Winnie:Yeah, must be old.
“Creampuff!”Fitz scoops me up and twirls me around right there in the lobby of the fancy restaurant.
It would be cute with Kathy, the negative, traitorous part of me whispers.You just look stupid.
I shove it down and lean into the kiss. It’s, like, five p.m. There’s hardly anyone in the restaurant except for the staff.No one is looking at you. Get a grip.
“I would have come to your house to pick you up,” Fitz tells me, “but I’m currently seeing how much of tonight’s tasting menu can be served as a puree.”
“Gran,” I hiss when Fitz nods to the two drooling elderly men nodding off. “Seriously? These are the dates? Did you steal them out of a nursing home?”
“That’s why we’re eating at five. Ernie’s got an early bedtime.” Gran tries to shake one of the men awake.
“That was nice of Fitz to send a limo for us,” Kathy says earnestly, briefly resting a hand on Fitz’s arm.
My stomach flip-flops.
“Yeah, I don’t think either of these old guys have their licenses, let alone are with-it enough to realize they even needed to come get you.” Fitz shakes his head.
“Ernie! Ernie, we’re going to get dinner now. Do you want a scotch?” Gran claps loudly at Ernie.
“Is he still alive?” I whisper to Fitz.
“He was five minutes ago when I had to help him to the bathroom.” He kisses the top of my head. “This is when you tell me I’m a saint.”
“Call in an airstrike!” One guy snorts awake. “Linda?” He peers at me. “That you? I need my glasses. I don’t remember your rack being that big.” He pats his sweater vest.
“Yes, she does have nice breasts,” Fitz says earnestly, hauling the elderly man to his feet.
I shove his walker in front of him. “I don’t even know if Kathy can legally marry him. He doesn’t look like he can sign his own name.”
“I want to go home.”
“We’re eating dinner now,” Gran says loudly as we follow Fitz to a table in the corner of the restaurant overlooking a killer view of the bay.
Kathy winces.
“Don’t look too put out,” Fitz tells my sister cheerfully. “I think the old geezer you’ve been assigned to has an eight hundred million net worth.”
“Let’s order something really rich and artery-clogging for apps,” Gran says, peering at the menu. “How about the Wagyu egg rolls?”
Kathy keeps looking at Fitz and smiling.
