“You’ve gone all the way to London for a job you don’t even like, but okay.”
I huff at her. “I just don’t want to!”
She sighs. “Okay. If you say so. But you want to know what I think?”
“No,” I say, trusting her to know by my tone that what I really mean isYeah, kind of.
“I think one of these days, you’re going to have to ask yourself if there’s a difference between not wanting something and being afraid of it.”
“Okay, Brené Brown,” I say, in anI’m not mad at you, but we’re done talking about thisway. “Anyway, don’t you have a job to be getting to? The children of San Diego are not going to appendectomize themselves, you know. Hopefully.”
She snorts. “Nah, today it’s just a marble in the nose. But it’s, like,reallyin there.”
We say ourgoodbyes and ourlove yous, and I hang up feeling just as winded as before. Just once this week, it’d be marvelous to have a conversation that doesn’t strike at the heart of my deepest insecurities.
The thing is, Steph’s my best friend. Her seeing right through me is par for the course. But when it was me and Grant in Lesley’s garden, I opened up voluntarily. I can’t really make sense of that,except to say that some things are just easier to talk about with people who don’t know you as well. But that’s not how it felt. It felt like he knew me. And for a minute, it felt like I wanted him to. And that, right there, is the danger of all of this.
Strike that. Therealdanger is sitting in that hot tub.That’swhat I need to focus on. Nothing else.
And so, minutes later, Grant and I are shivering in swimsuits and white terry-cloth robes, staring down the cobbled path to where the Sweetheart Slayer soaks in wait, lit eerily blue by the hot tub’s glow.
“This has to be it,” I say quietly, my breath clouding in the night air. “The grand finale. The big moment. Time to bring our A game and break this guy.”
“Has anyone ever told you you prepare for attempted murder like a junior varsity basketball coach?” Grant whispers.
“All the time.”
Grant takes a deep breath. “Okay,” he says on the exhale. “Then let’s get out there and give it our one hundred and ten percent.” He holds his hand out, and I take it.
We’re silent as we stalk forward, pausing only to shed our robes. My plan to not look at Grant south of chin level vanishes the moment his torso is bared to me, shoulders shifting as he sets his robe on a bench. I’ve never known the finer details of his body under his signature sweaters and pullovers, but now I feel as though I should have. Everything that’s new to me—his lean stomach, his light dusting of chest hair, the hollows of his neck and collarbone—they’re all a perfect continuation of the parts of him that I know.
I force myself to meet his eyes and realize with a start that he’s been watching me too. His gaze roams over my body, studying me. When we finally make eye contact, something unspoken passes between us—something I can’t name but can feel overevery inch of my skin. And then Grant darts a glance at Martin, and I remember:the mission.The mission comes first.Don’t be turned on; be annoying.I can do that.
Martin jumps when we enter the hot tub and sit on either side of him, much too close for comfort.
“Heyyyy, friend!” I sing at him.
He looks a little startled but offers a polite smile as he glances from me to Grant. “Hello, you two.”
“Hope you don’t mind us joining you,” says Grant. “When we saw you out here all by your lonesome, we just thought, Now,there’sa man who could really use some company.” Grant shakes Martin by the shoulders for emphasis. Martin’s smile is getting weaker by the moment.
“Yes,” he says. “Nothing better than a hot—quiet—soak under the stars.”
“Sure, sure. You know what is better, though?” I lean past Martin to flash a sickeningly sweet gaze at Grant. “The sweet embrace of the one you love.”
“Aw, babe.” He reaches behind Martin to take my hand, bumping Martin’s head forward in the process. Finally, Martin is beginning to look less than enthused. We’re in the window of Murder Time, and it shows.
“Nathan,” I say across Martin, “what is your favorite thing about our love?”
Grant blows out a thinking man’s breath. “So many things to choose from,” he says. “Probably the fact that neither of us will ever have to go on vacation alone ever again.”
“Sotrue,” I say. “I personally really love the fact that if either of us died unexpectedly, we wouldn’t be found weeks later, half-eaten by a cat.”
Grant’s face goes deadpan, silently asking,Seriously?I give him an apologetic shrug.
Meanwhile, Martin’s eyes are fixed on the bubbling water, his mouth pressed in a grim curve that only barely resembles a smile. I wouldn’t say he’s homicidal, but he’s getting there.
“And the sex,” I blurt. Martin startles and gives me a flustered look. “The hot, hot sex we’re always having. Tell him, babe.”
