Chapter 41
forty-one
Nessa
Delia convinces me that I will feel better if I get some air, so I text Millie and we meet for dinner at The Featherweight.
Dinner turns into a long conversation at the fire pit, which is equipped with a s’mores bar tonight.
Before I know it, we’re wandering back to Millie’s place stuffed full of chocolate and marshmallows.
As we pass Curl Up & Dye, I’m knocked back like I’ve taken a physical blow.
In the dimly lit shop sits Mateo, wearing a cape, suggesting it is just a typical appointment. But that isn’t what’s taken me by surprise. No, what has my hackles rising is the sight of Christina Salvatore wearing a dress so tiny it might as well be lingerie.
“Guess he’s moving on,” I say, a chill running through me.
She’s massaging his scalp, again not totally abnormal. But her low cut neckline and unconventional stance—she is standing in front of the chair instead of behind it—means her chest is inches from his face.
“Figures,” I grumble to Millie. “He was always a man whore, and despite his pretty words, he moved on faster than FloJo.”
Millie loops her arm through mine and tugs me along. Glancing back, a tiny fragment of light catches my eye and I stop.
“Wait, look,” I say.
“Don’t give him the satisfaction,” she reprimands.
“I think she’s wearing an engagement ring,” I add.
“Intrigue,” Millie coos, turning.
“I can’t tell,” I admit, slumping.
“Hmm, well, can I interest you in a distraction? Reruns? I find that TV shows I’ve seen before are always the best balm.”
A few episodes into our rerun marathon, a heavy knock sounds on her apartment door. The deep banging is accompanied by angry demands for her to open up.
It startles me enough that I jump out of my skin, while Millie simply laughs and shouts, “If you asked nicely, maybe I’d get up faster,” before moving toward the door.
“Should we be careful?” I ask, pulling my feet up onto the couch. “Is this man dangerous or deranged? Do you know who it is and what they want?”
It’s then that the man shouts again, and I recognize the voice.
Instantly, my body sags in relief.
“Can you turn that down?” Seth asks as Millie swings the door open. “If I have to listen to you clap along to the theme song again, it’s going to break me.”
“Nice to see you too, Seth-ward.” Millie pulls him into the apartment. “Come, join us.”
Seth is looking past Millie, and we make eye contact. I give him a sheepish wave.
“Come on, we’re about to watch the episode where Monica and Chandler’s secret is revealed. And we have snacks. Help me eat my feelings.” I wave a hand over the spread on the coffee table.
Sighing, he throws himself into the armchair to my left, sitting as far from Millie as possible and glaring at her.
There’s a long sequence of characters saying “they know” back and forth, and when one of them is shocked about who is messing with whom, I bolt up.
“That’s what I need to do!”
“Finally admit that you’ve fallen for Mateo and end the insanity?” Seth asks dryly.
“No. I need to make this into something academic. I’ve got to run. Millie, love that bookshelf. We need to discuss your taste in romance authors next time we hang out.”
“This is a terrible idea,” Seth groans.
Millie lights up. “I love terrible ideas. Count me in!”
Delia knocks on my open doorframe later the next evening after work.
I’ve been slumped over the computer reading listener emails and research articles, and the motion causes my neck to crack.
Leaning back, I press my chest forward and then roll my shoulders, turning to look at her once I feel a little less like the Tin Man.
Delia gapes, horrified. “You were in that exact position when I left at lunchtime. Please tell me you’ve moved since then.”
Frowning, she surveys the space. There are multiple empty cans of diet cola, wrappers from snack bars, and a fork sitting in an empty pie tin. I cleaned that out first. There’s also a half-drunk bottle of water.
“Um.” I shrug and turn back to the notes scattered around me. “I’ve gotten up to pee a couple of times…”
“What is this?” She looks at me cautiously, like she’s worried she’ll spook me.
Wyclef uses this moment of distraction to walk across my keyboard and lay himself straight across my arms. He’s become obsessed with getting head rubs, and I can’t say no to those yellow eyes, so I pause my frantic scripting for him.
“Working on my final episode of the year, looking for articles and emails that can help,” I say.
I puff my chest, raising my chin, and try to put as much confidence as possible behind my explanation.
“I’m going to analyze what happened like patient case notes. I have had some perfect emails come in for it. I’m going to figure out how to fix this by looking at it like it’s someone else’s problem.” I pause my rushed explanation, blinking a few times.
The ache in my neck has set in, and I reach back to rub absently at the spot.
Delia nods and steps closer. “Can I see some of these listener questions?”
I gather the printouts I’ve highlighted and annotated and hand them over.
To my pleasant surprise, she smiles. “This is brilliant, Ness, I’m in. But only if you rest. I can help you with this tomorrow if you take a break now.”
Cuddling Wyclef, I let out a large yawn. He swats at the curl that fell from my messy bun.
Rapping her knuckles against the frame, Delia gives me a soft smile. “Good night, get some sleep.”
“Okay, Mom,” I say, with an exaggerated whine.