The number sits there like it’s mocking me. It has to be a mistake. Life doesn’t work like this, not for someone like me.
This money means I can eventually get a small apartment and have Milo back. The problem is, most rentals want credit reports I can’t give them and paperwork I can’t provide without unraveling everything. But I can figure that out.
For now, this is good. Really good. The only hitch is waiting two weeks for the money to start coming in, which means I still need the ranch job for extra cash.
“Thank you,” I manage, staring at the number like it might disappear if I look away. “I won’t mess this up.”
“I know you won’t.”
I push up from the chair, still trying to make my brain accept that this is actually happening.
“Oh, before I forget.” He opens a drawer, pulling out a small box wrapped in pink paper and finished with a glossy white bow and sliding it toward me. “One of our customers left this for you.”
My hands still in midair. “A customer?”
He lifts the box. “Kirill. He asked me to make sure you got it.”
My pulse kicks hard, like it does every time I think about Kirill and how it would feel if he kissed me.
“What is it?” My fingertips buzz in anticipation as I take the box from him.
Why would he get me something?
The gesture pulls at the part of me who wants to matter.
Mark shrugs. “He didn’t say.”
“Thanks again.” I turn toward the door and rush out to the front, eager to see what’s inside.
As soon as Mandy notices the gift, she scrunches her nose. “Does Mark have a crush on you or something?”
“What? Oh, that. No, that’s not from him.”
“Then who?”
“Kirill…”
Mandy’s brows shoot up so high they nearly disappear into her hairline. “Kirill? As in tall, scary, hot, looks-like-he-could-kill-a-man Kirill?”
Heat crawls up my neck. “Mandy.”
“The one who basically threatened to rip that guy’s tongue out yesterday?” she presses, rather delightfully. “That Kirill?”
I glance around. The diner is dead. Only two tables are busy. A couple of old men nursing coffee and staring at the TV. No one’s listening, thank goodness.
Mandy grins. “Well, what the hell are you waiting for? Open it. If it’s a bomb, at least we’ll go together.”
“That’s not funny.”
“It’s a little funny.”
My hands are clammy as I set the box down behind the counter and slowly peel back the paper. The lid lifts, and all I can do is stare.
A cellphone rests inside, sleek and brand new. The kind I’ve seen in commercials where the people holding it look like they’ve never had to choose between gas and groceries. It’s too nice to be real.
Mandy lets out a low whistle. “Damn. That’s top of the market, baby. I told you he likes you.”
The wordlikeslands wrong, as though it doesn’t belong in my life. Like it’s a costume someone’s trying to force onto me.
