“Hey,” she replied. “Come on in.”
They hadn’t planned on seeing each other tonight. India was going to be working late, and Maisie was too nervous to spend time with anyone, given the looming election. After talking to Lainey earlier that day, though, Maisie had texted India and asked if she could come over to hang out. India had replied right away, and now she was standing in her doorway, holding a bottle of wine in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other.
“Are those for me?” Maisie asked.
“They are, yes,” India said. “We’re pre-celebrating tonight. I also ordered us some food. It should be here in about ten minutes.” She held out the flowers for Maisie and walked into the apartment. “I got two options.”
“Options?” she asked, breathing in the red, white, and yellow roses.
“For food,” India replied and closed the door behind her. “Where should I hang my coat? It’s raining out there.”
“Oh,” Maisie said, just noticing that India was wearing a black knee-length coat that had raindrops all over it and that, on the arm holding the wine, an umbrella was hooked over it. “I don’t have a coat thing. Maybe just the chair?”
“Sure,” India said.
Maisie walked over to the kitchen and set the flowers down on the counter while she found something to put them in. India removed her coat, hung it over the back of the chair at Maisie’s kitchen table, and then brought the wine bottle over to where Maisie was standing.
“Corkscrew?”
“Sorry?”
“Maise, corkscrew for the wine. It should breathe.”
“Oh. Drawer,” she said, pointing to the drawer nearby. “And what did you mean, we’re pre-celebrating?”
“Your victory.”
“We can’t celebrate. I haven’t won anything.”
India grabbed the corkscrew and replied, “Regardless of whether or not you win the election tomorrow, you’ve already won something, Maise. You have fought for something youbelieve in, and I think that’s a victory. Most people, myself included, just sit back and let people like Colter Stone win. You didn’t.”
“But he’s still going to win.”
Maisie watched India open that bottle of wine like she’d done it a million times before, and damn it, if that didn’t turn her on.
“You should trim the stems,” India said.
“Huh?” Maisie cleared her throat.
“On the roses.”
“Oh, yeah. Right.”
India smiled at her, and that smile told Maisie that India knew where her mind had gone.
“Wineglasses?”
“Um… I have some.”
“And where might I find them?”
“Oh, cabinet behind you. They’re the kind withoutthe stems.”
“The roses?”
“No, the wineglasses,” Maisie said, laughing.
“I know, Maisie. I was teasing.”
