"Nadia, the co-pay?—"
"I'll handle the co-pay." I was already pulling out my phone, searching for emergency dental clinics. "There's a place on Marchetti Street that takes walk-ins until six. I'll take her now."
"You have dinner with Daemon?—"
"I'll be late." I found the clinic, got through on the second ring, and booked Emma in for 5:15p.m.
My mom stayed in the kitchen doorway while I helped Emma into her jacket, one hand still pressed to her face. Only then did I take a proper look around. The kitchen was spotless as always, but there were other signs if you knew where to look.
The name-brand coffee had been replaced with the store label. The fruit bowl sat half empty where there used to be abundance. The cautious atmosphere of a household managing on less than it needed.
My dad's hours had been cut in March. My mom's part-time position at the school district hadn't had its contract renewed. Neither of them had said anything directly. I'd figured it out from the gaps between what they mentioned and what they didn't.
The dental clinic smelled of antiseptic and the sweat of those who knew it would hurt. I sat in the waiting room while Emma was seen, scrolling through my accounts and doing math I already knew the answer to.
Pacific Tech had been twenty percent of my annual revenue. The two vendors Elevate had approached were reconsidering their supplier agreements, which meant my margins would compress.
The co-pay for the dental visit was manageable. The follow-up appointment, to address what turned out to be an impacted wisdom tooth, would cost considerably more.
Emma came out forty-five minutes later with a prescription for antibiotics and pain relief, plus a referral for oral surgery within two weeks. The receptionist handed me the paperwork with the cost estimate attached.
I folded it without looking at the number in front of Emma.
"Better?" I asked her.
"A little." She leaned into me briefly, the way she used to when she was younger. "Sorry. For not saying anything."
"Don't be." I put my arm around her. "That's what I'm here for."
I dropped her home, promised my mom I'd send the surgery referral information, and got back in the van, where I sat with my hands gripping the wheel.
I had five minutes to get to Sofia's and knew I'd be late, regardless. The familiar pressure of my other responsibilities settled a little heavier than it had that morning.
I started the engine and drove.
Sofia Ferrari's dining room was what I'd expected after seeing Daemon’s apartment. A surfeit of florals, lace doilies, and framed photographs covered every available surface. What I hadn't expected was how welcoming it felt.
"Sit, sit," said Sofia, gesturing to a chair at the small table, set with china so delicate I knew it had to be special. "Daemon, pour the wine our guest brought."
Daemon caught my eye as he opened the bottle, and something hot flickered between us. The memory of last night, of his hands on my skin, his mouth on mine.
I looked away first, focusing on Sofia as she bustled back to the kitchen.
"Your home is lovely," I called after her, which wasn't altogether a lie. It was overwhelming, yes, but there was something charming about a woman this committed to her aesthetic choices.
"Lovely?" said Sofia, returning with the bowl of pasta, steam still rising from it. "It's too much, I know. But when you get to my age, you stop caring what people think. You like what you like."
She served the pasta by twirling it onto each plate with a flourish that spoke of decades of practice. The smell alone made my mouth water, that unmistakable aroma of good cheese and black pepper.
"This looks incredible," I said.
"Tastes better," said Sofia, settling into her chair with a satisfied smile. "Mangia. Eat before it gets cold."
I twirled pasta onto my fork and popped it into my mouth.
Oh.
Oh, damn.
