I became Jacques’s favorite again when Knox handed me the pasta bowl filled with stroganoff. He also set a glass of red wine on the coffee table in front of me.
He refolded into the couch.
“Tara, one of Cheyenne’s friends, texted me,” he announced.
I was shoveling mushrooms, filet mignon, noodles and sauce into my mouth, thus did not reply.
“She assured me we wouldn’t have any more problems with Cheyenne,” Knox went on.
I chewed. I swallowed. I remained silent.
“She also apologized. She said she didn’t know Cheyenne was pulling that shit. They’ve had a talk with her, and she tells me Cheyenne realized she’s been being crazy and promised neither of us would see her again.”
“That must have been some text,” I remarked.
“It was,” he agreed.
I shoved more food in my mouth.
“Brady and I ironed things out,” he declared. “There was history of his I didn’t know, he didn’t know some of my history. We both now know where the other was coming from and we’re cool.”
They were cool.
Just like that, they were cool.
“You got beer and bro time, but your ex-girlfriend threw four”—I put my fork in the bowl so I could hold up four fingers—“four bowls of borscht at me.”
“Baby.” That word trembled with suppressed humor.
“You think this is funny?” I asked quietly. “She assaulted me in a fancy restaurant run by the Russian mob.”
“Alexeyev didn’t look upset,” he pointed out.
I slammed my bowl down, stood and shouted, “Your ex-girlfriend assaulted me, Knox!”
Jacques barked.
“Beautiful…” he started.
And one could say there was no suppressed humor in this infinitely new tone.
“…you need to find this funny,” he warned. “And I need to find it funny. Because if I don’t find it funny, I’m gonna find it something else, and neither of us, along with Cheyenne…”
He took a breath in, his nostrils contracted, then they flared.
Oh boy.
“Especially Cheyenne,” he went on, “will think anything is funny.”
I thought it prudent to sit and grab my bowl, so this was what I did, and not only because Jacques was sniffing at the edge of the coffee table.
“Are you okay?” Knox asked.
“We rolled down three steps.”
“Are you hurt?” he asked softly.
“No.” I huffed. “I suppose I should take this win and move on. Even the patrons gave me a round of applause when Dimitri marched us out of there.”
