“Anytime,” Mal said. He closed his eyes, considering his next ask. “But can you do something for me?”
Jo snorted. “I don’t think I’m in a position to deny your requests after all you’ve done for me,” she said. “What is it?”
Mal tilted his head toward the ceiling.
“Can you turn on your phone?” he said. “I just... want to be able to get a hold of you.”
The silence stretched on for so long that Mal feared it might be permanent, and he bit down on his cheek, already regretting making the request. They’d made headway today. Maybe this was too much pressure too soon. Maybe asking her to pick up for him would give her another thing to feel guilty for, an additional task for her already overburdened mind. But when Mal was about to take everything back and excuse himself from the premises, Jo cleared her throat.
“My phone’s a scary place right now,” she admitted. “It’s pretty hard to convince myself that I’m not a piece of shit when tens of thousands of people are assuring me that I am. I got a bit hooked to feeding the beast. Had to put it away.”
Mal started. He hadn’t considered that.
“Oh,” he said. “Oh. That’s probably smart. Don’t worry about it. I’ll be here, anyway—”
“But. Maybe my computer? The trolls found my work email, but my personal is still intact.”
“Are you asking to be my pen pal?” Mal teased, biting back his self-satisfaction when he heard her snicker through the door.
“Yes, I think,” she said. “Do you accept?”
“Of course, Dr.Boateng,” he responded, “I look forward to our correspondence.”
Ampersand screamed at the door when Mal returned home. Despite being generally aloof, she preferred Mal’s presence to his absence, and his daily trips to Lincoln Park had clearly been ticking her off. He scooped her into his arms and carried her to his desk, shaking his computer awake.
“Behave,” Mal instructed, and, in a rare display of agreeableness, Ampersand obeyed, stretching out like a sphynx on his lap.
Today was, he thought, a good day. He’d spoken to Jo, then gotten the first chapter of his second novel done. He texted Dahlia (She talked to me today), and she responded with a string of excited emojis and aWHAAA AMAZINGin all caps.
When Mal volunteered to be Jo’s hands, he’d meant it. But there was another set of hands that were noticeably absent, and those ones, Mal thought, had the ability to put an end to all of this.
What had happened between Ezra and Jo the night of the health benefit had clearly been monumental: the video of their embrace was seared into the back of Mal’s head. But for as many times as he watched it, it didn’t look romantic. The glimpse he’d caught of Jo’s face when Ezra turned to look at the camera had shown sadness, not longing. And there was the context: at a hospital in the early hours of the morning, after Jo had visited her estranged mother.
Mal would’ve been more curious if he weren’t so annoyed. Because really, what was the point of being best friends with a billionaire if he couldn’t shut down a media circus?
Mal opened his email to a few new messages, then snickered when he saw the sender.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Hi
Don’t even know what I’m meant to say here. Thank you. I’m sorry. Honestly don’t know why you’re still around. I’m sure I’ve gone and made your life a living hell. You hate being under a spotlight, and I’ve pushed you right under it. But I appreciate you being here regardless.
I never told you how good the tortellini you made the other day was. No wonder that was all you ate growing up. If they packaged the joy I got from every bite into pill form I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be depressed anymore.
From: [email protected]
You haven’t made my life hell at all. Actually, according to my agent, you helped me sell a ton of books. Which is a bit disturbing, honestly.
And you didn’t push me anywhere that I didn’t want to be. You know how many times I’ve watched that video of you telling a whole room of people that I was yours? So many times it would make you sick. You would run away from me, if you knew.
My tortellini always hits. That’s why I made it. Happiness in every bite.
Anyway. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay. I want you to be too.
