Ceci scoffed. “Of course he would have all that Old English up his sleeve. I bet he’s read every Jane Austen book ever written. And her letters. He can probably quote them verbatim.”
“And that would be a bad thing?”
“I didn’t say it was a bad thing. Then again, everything’s a bad thing when it comes to that man. He’s ruined every date we’ve been on.”
“I thought it was because of you he got two black eyes, two bloody lips, a cut on his cheek, a busted nose, and a cut on his jaw that required stitches.”
“Look, if he wasn’t such a rigid and uptight stick, those things wouldn’t have happened. He could have stepped in and taken care of business.”
“But he did. Or tried to. You told him to stay out of it.”
That’s true.
Ceci drew a deep breath to collect her thoughts. “Okay, it’s not him stepping in but his reason for stepping in, and the way he does it, that’s the problem. He’s not stepping in to right a wrong or stop it. Orprotect someone. Or to stick it to someone who deserves it. He just can’t bear to be seen or associated with such unseemly behavior, and definitely not with the woman who prompts it, which would be me. The mortification practically drips off the man. God forbid, you’re too loud and people are staring. He’s always got to be civil and proper. All he cares about is the way things look. If he’d had a fuck-it attitude and been more forceful when he’d intervened, then I wouldn’t have had to.”
Pixel remained silent.
“Did you hear me?” Ceci asked.
“I heard you.” She paused. “But suppose he’d intervened in the way that you seem to want, are you telling me you would have sat back, let him deal with the matter and done nothing? Because that doesn’t sound like the Ceci Rivers I know.”
There was no response.
“Ceci, you there?”
“I’m here.”
There was a long pause. It was Pixel who broke the silence.
“Did you read that email I sent you with the information about the four cats?”
“Yes.”
“Oh. You never said anything.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“Nothing really. I just thought it was interesting. I mean, that he would have those four cats on that stationary. Don’t you think it’s interesting?”
Ceci shrugged and then, realizing Pixel couldn’t see her, muttered, “I guess so.”
“Still having those dreams?” Pixel paused. “Is he still wearing the iron mask?”
“I wish we’d FaceTimed. Then you could see me giving you the finger … with both hands.”
Pixel chuckled.
As long as he’d worn that iron mask in her dreams, she could pretend he was someone else. Or at least try to. But ever since that Austin date, he’d abandoned the mask and there was no denying theman in her dreams was Sir Stick Up His Ass. Only he didn’t behave like Sir Stick. He was the man who’d swept her across the dance floor at the masquerade ball, the one who’d kissed her in front of her father and a roomful of people, the one who’d taken her karting and raced alongside her.
“You’re determined to think the worst of him,” Pixel said.
The sudden recollection of how that karting excursion had ended flashed before her.
“The man’s a sexist! I told you what he said to me at the karting track in Austin.”
“He only said that to provoke you, to get you to do what you did.”
“You mean slap him?”
