I feel my heart constrict, wishing I were there with them. And there are a couple more messages from him, sitting there.
Greg:
erica’s here too
she was bawling during the ceremony for some reason
So I write back:
Ruby:
knew she was a crier
Then I hesitate, thumbs hovering, words crowding my head faster than I can type.
Ruby:
hey so i overheard something
And as clearly as I can, I explain everything I found out about the trap at the annual retreat.
Greg:
oh shit
thank you
He’s typing for a minute, stopping, typing again.
Greg:
(and for the record, i still hate this)
I almost laugh out loud, but I stifle it.
Ruby:
your feedback has been recorded
Greg:
but seriously you’re a lifesaver
A little bud of warmth sprouts in my chest. For once, I did something right.
Chapter
45
It’s eleven p.m., and Mark Winterson is at least four drinks in. It’s probably the right time to probe about his relationship with Erickson. But when we get back to our room at the bed-and-breakfast, he says he needs to read on his phone for an hour to wind down.
“Come here,” he says, and pulls me closer so I’m nestling against him, head on his chest. His heartbeat pulses in my ear as I notice the title at the top of the page.
“Capitalism in America: A History?” I scoff. “Some light bedtime reading.”
My head rises and falls with Mark Winterson’s laugh. “Alan Greenspan’s droppin’ bars in this one.”
My God, I really do have terrible taste in men.
