“God, no,” I mutter.
I open the door anyway, because apparently I hate myself, and there she is.The She-Devil.
Mara Lafferty—I think?Maybe?I haven’t bothered learning anything about her.I should call Eddie and have him pull some background.Actually, not some.A lot.Enough ammunition to get her out of here.
There are other nephews and nieces who can come and take over, right?Yes.Perfect plan.Go back to your globe trotting lifestyle and leave me alone.
I manage not to say any of that out loud—look at me, that tiny meditation earlier actually worked.
“Yeah?”I say to the red-haired woman in fuzzy socks, holding a mug.Her hair is in a bun that looks like it fought a blender and lost.Mila stands beside her, clutching a notebook the size of a dictionary.
“Morning,” Mara chirps.
She fucking chirps.Like a sparrow.During breeding season.
My eye twitches.“So, why are you here?”This has to be karmic punishment.I should go to yoga.Cleanse my soul.Maybe they’ll disappear by the time I’m back home.
Mila gasps like I just told her Santa punched the Easter Bunny.“You’re not supposed to say that, Mr.Grumpy-Neighbor.You’re supposed to say, ‘Good morning, how can I help you?’”
I try not to glare, but what the fuck?“I don’t recall signing up for customer service,” I mutter, polite enough to count as progress.
Mara winces slightly—like she’s used to being too bright and still surprises herself when it backfires.“We just wanted to bring you something,” she says.
I narrow my eyes.“What?”
“This,” she says, holding out a steaming mug.
I don’t take it.I wait, because sunshine people always have an agenda.
“What is it you really want?”
“It’s tea,” she explains, smiling like she invented kindness.“Mila said you looked frazzled yesterday, and coffee can really mess with your chakras, so we thought?—”
“I’m sorry,” I interrupt.“My what?”
“Your chakras,” Mila repeats, delighted to be the chaos courier.“They’re little wheels of energy in your body and?—”
“No.I know what they are,” I growl, not telling her I already have a yogi who talks about them like they’re long-lost cousins trying to reconnect.I point at the mug.“I’m asking why you think my ...chakras ...need assistance.”
Mara bites her lip to keep from laughing.
I hate that I notice.
I hate more that it almost makes me smile.
“You looked like you were about to explode,” Mila says helpfully.“Like in those cartoons where the cat eats TNT and—boom.”She mimes the explosion with her hands and laughs.
The sound is contagious.
But I fight it.
Because I refuse to encourage these two.
“So,” Mara says with a brightness that feels unnatural for this hour, “I’ve been reading this holistic health book, and apparently, tea is good for the soul.Calming.Balancing.Far less likely to send someone into emotional combustion than coffee.”
Her voice is sunshine poured directly onto my nerves.
I stare at the mug she’s holding out as if it’s betrayed me in a previous life.
