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“So go,” Veronica says. “You can’t keep Hell waiting.”

I gather the remains of my lunch and shove them into the paper bag.

“Fine. But if I come back down here with another lesbian and not a promotion, I’m suing both of you.”

Dani picks up her drink again. “That’s fair.”

I start toward the elevators before either of them can say anything else. Ten minutes from now, I’ll be sitting in a room I wasn’t supposed to be in.

And if someone asks me what I think, I’m going to tell them.

CHAPTER 32

FLORA

Merry comes into The Spindle twice the following week for coffee she does not need.

I know she doesn’t need it because on Tuesday she arrives at seven forty in the morning already carrying a paper cup from somewhere else, sees me notice it, and throws it into the trash before she reaches the counter.

“Traitor.”

“It was an emergency,” she says, but I see how the smile on her face reaches her eyes and makes them crinkle at the corners. “I panicked.”

Luis looks up from the espresso machine. “You panicked so you bought coffee?”

“No, I panicked when Flora saw the coffee. It was absolutely a rational decision made several blocks ago.”

I bite the inside of my cheek, and Merry smiles at me.

It’s been a little over a week since I went to her house for an earring, and stayed for pasta and wine and several hours on her couch. We’ve seen each other since then, although I’m starting to lose track of which times count as dates.

There was dinner Saturday, which definitely counted.

Sunday morning probably counted, too, considering I didn’t leave her house until almost noon.

Monday, she came into The Spindle on her lunch break while she worked from home and stayed for exactly eleven minutes because she had a meeting.

Yesterday, I saw her through the front windows, running toward the bus stop with her coat open and her bag bouncing against her hip. She didn’t come inside that time. She didn’t even see me.

I watched her anyway, and Luis caught me smiling and very generously said nothing.

Merry leans against the counter now while I make the latte she absolutely could have survived without.

“I can’t stay,” she says with a tiny pout on her lips.

“I assumed.”

“I have a meeting at eight thirty.”

I glance at the clock. “The bus is in four minutes.”

Her head whips to the windows. “Fuck.”

I laugh as I put the lid on her cup and slide it across the counter.

She catches it, but instead of leaving, she looks at me. “You’re still good for tonight?”

“Yeah.”