A crown of mint foam floated on top, dusted with edible gold and a single swan crystal drifting on the side.
The chilled bowls had the nerve to be resting on plates rimmed in gold.
“Course Two—The Floaty Incident,” Matilda announced, her accent smooth as cream. “Cucumber gazpacho with mint foam and truffles, for those moments when cool relief is not enough.”
She set each bowl down. The faint perfume of cucumber, mint, and truffle rippled through the air.
Ro actually sighed. “Rich people soup. I love it.”
Matilda gave a half bow. “I may not have 15 inches, but I hope you enjoy this moment as much as Simone enjoyed hers.”
"Matilda," Ro chuckled, "if Tey ever divorces Dominic—which she won't—I'm marrying you."
"Noted, Miss Rochelle." Matilda's mouth twitched. "I'll prepare the prenup."
Smiling, I tried my dish.
After she left, Cadence leaned back in her chair, carefully sipping her martini. "So. . .updates. Ro first, since you're basically vibrating with news."
Ro grinned so wide I could count all her teeth. "The condo is flawless. I mean, yes, I'm surrounded by young millionaire tech bros who wear Patagonia vests indoors, but my place has a balcony overlooking the river and a bathtub big enough to host a small orgy. And. . .my neighbor. . .Korean. . .muscular. . .granted. . .he’s 22, but. . .oh my God. . .I would totally be his Bad Mommy for a day!"
"Ro!" Cadence gasped.
"What? I'm just saying, the tub has jets and fits two comfortably, so I’m thinking about inviting my neighbor over." She winked. "But more importantly my birthday party,50 Shades of Rois officially happening. February fourteenth. Downtown venue. Open bar. Theme is 'Age Ain't Nothing But A Number, But This Ass Is Timeless.'"
I choked on my fake champagne. "That's the actual theme?"
"That's the actual theme. Invites will go out next week. Dress code is slutty formal. I’m talking silk, lace, leather. Be nasty, but posh." She pointed at both of us. "You're both coming. No excuses. I want to see you in something that makes people nervous."
"I'll be there," I promised. "Dominic too, if you'll have him."
"Girl, bring that fine man. He can stand in the corner and look expensive." Ro turned to Cadence. "What about you? Are you bringing the biker or is he going to kill you because you won’t let him check out any books?"
“Bring the biker?” Cadence went still. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Bullshit." Ro leaned forward. "You've mentioned him at least ten times in the last two weeks. 'The biker did this.' 'The biker said that.' 'The biker looked at me like—'"
"He paid his fines," Cadence interrupted, her voice prim but her cheeks pink. "All thirty-two dollars and seventy-five cents. Plus additional late fees. This was after I had firmly told him he could not check out any books. His little biker friends with him looked shocked and a few appeared scared, but he just winked and paid."
I grinned. "And?"
"And. . ." Cadence picked at her napkin. "He asked if I wanted to get some coffee. To discuss children's literacy programs. For his niece."
Ro screamed. "COFFEE? Girl, that man doesn't want to discuss literacy! He wants to discuss you bent over his bike and his cock slamming into—"
"Rochelle!" Cadence threw a napkin at her. "It's not like that. He's. . .actually very sweet, once I get over the fact that he looks like he kills people. Every Tuesday and Thursday, he brings his niece to Storytime now. She sits on his huge lap and he does all the voices for the characters."
My heart melted. "Cadence, you should go to coffee with him."
"Don't," she warned. "I'm not ready to talk about it. He's. . .complicated. But when he smiles at his niece. . .God, Tey. He transforms. This big scary man becomes so gentle. And he keeps asking me for book recommendations. Last week he checked outWhere the Wild Things AreandThe Giving Tree. Those are my favorite kids’ books."
"That's husband behavior," Ro said sagely. "A man who reads to children? Lock that down."
"I barely know him!"
"But you want to." I said it gently, watching the way Cadence's fingers twisted around her glass stem. "Don't you?"
She was quiet for a long moment. Then, so soft I almost missed it: "Yes. But it's terrifying. He's in a motorcycle club. He has a past. And I'm a librarian who color-codes her bookshelves."
