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“He had talent that needed to be fostered,” she says, tone defensive.
Bea was always dragged along to games. She’d sit in the arena either reading a book or watching, at least until she was old enough to stay home on her own. Then she’d be in charge of things like household chores or making dinner. I remember dropping Flip off after practice and finding her home alone at age eleven, making dinner because both their parents worked shifts.
“He absolutely did,” I agree. “And clearly all that time and effort panned out. But you’re talented, too.”
She arches a brow. “At being turned into a sex pretzel?”
“You’re the complete package Bea. You’re smart, savvy, resourceful, and good at more than just one thing. And you’re fucking beautiful, which is a nice bonus. Me and Flip have all our eggs in this one basket, and our careers won’t last forever. But you? You’ve got options, if you want to take them. All I’m saying is that he has some great connections because of his job, and there’s nothing wrong with using them.”
“It just feels wrong.”
“It shouldn’t.” I layer the egg and peameal on top of the cheese and top it with English muffin. Then I put a second one on her plate.
“I only need one,” she says as I push the plate toward her.
“I rode you hard last night. You need to fuel up.” And she’s always waiting on me and Flip, making sure we’re fed before she serves herself.
Her cheeks flush. “And you don’t?”
“I’ll have breakfast round two after my workout. Besides, we’re doing laps, and I’ll end up with stomach cramps if I eat too much.”
I scarf down my egg sandwiches in under three minutes while Bea savors hers. I demolish most of the fruit salad, but then realize she hasn’t had any yet and leave the rest. Once we’ve finished breakfast, she goes up to the loft to change, and I tidy the kitchen. I’ve just finished getting dressed when Roman messages that he’s here. I buzz him up since we’re planning to use the pool here for laps. It’s quiet during the workday, and there are fewer distractions.
I let Roman in a minute later, and Bea comes down from the loft. She’s holding a pair of heels in one hand, and her giant purse is slung over her shoulder.
She gives Roman a wide, genuine smile. “Hey, how’s it going?”
“Good. How about you? Flip mentioned you got a new job. Congrats.”
“Thanks. I’m enjoying it so far. Now I need to find an apartment and I’m all set.” She drops her purse and braces a hand on the counter, slipping on her shoes.
I immediately picture her naked except for the heels. They’d look great resting on my shoulders.
She snaps her fingers. “Earth to Tris.”
“Huh?”
“Have you seen the newspaper that was sitting on the counter? I circled a bunch of ads. I want to research neighborhoods before I make more calls.” She looks at me expectantly.
More calls? I don’t like the sound of that. “Maybe Flip tossed it in the recycling?” I know exactly where that newspaper is. In the garbage. Where I threw it while I was cleaning up breakfast. It’s under the eggshells and the extra ketchup I scraped off Bea’s plate. I already know those places she circled weren’t in great neighborhoods. I get that she’s looking for something affordable, but it needs to be safe, too.
She checks the time. “Crap. I gotta go. If you see that paper, can you save it? Oh, and I’ll be home around seven.”
I frown. She gets off at five. It only takes her half an hour to get home. “Why will you be so late? Are you taking the subway or an Uber?”
She gives me a funny look. “Uh, the subway, like I always do. I have to run a couple of errands. I prepped a bunch of pasta dinners, if you can’t wait, but I’m making quesadillas tonight. Roman, you’re always welcome to join.”
“Thanks, but Peggy and I have a dinner date tonight.”
Her hand goes to her chest. “It’s sweet that you have dinner dates. Tell her I said hi. Anyway, I gotta run. You boys have a good workout.” She picks up her messenger bag and clicks her way to the door.
I watch her leave. I briefly wonder what a dinner date would be like with Bea, but squash that since we’re just fucking and that can’t ever happen.
Once she’s gone, I turn to Roman. His arms are crossed.
“’Sup?”
“Dude.”
“Dude, what?” I grab a dishrag and start wiping down the counter.
“How long has that been going on?”
“How long has what been going on?” Fuck, fuck, fuck.
He shakes his head. “I know that look, man. You got it bad.”
I laugh. “You mean Beat?”
His left eyebrow climbs his forehead.
“Rix. Beatrix. Flip’s sister. We can’t stand each other.”
