Page 52 of The Roommate Subtext

Maggie smiled back. When the pancakes were done, she transferred them gently onto a plate. “We could stage a big public breakup and you could seek solace in the arms of a wealthy widow.”

Blake laughed and squatted to put the plate into the warmer drawer under the stove. He wobbled for a moment and grabbed her leg to steady himself, his fingers pressing into her shin, and Maggie lost her train of thought altogether. “Sorry,” he said, getting up. “Not quite sober yet.”

“You’re a lightweight.” She dropped more scoops of batter onto the griddle, using up the rest of the mix. “Anyway, it would probably hurt your fundraising chances if we end up on the front page of Below Boston.”

“God, could you imagine? I hate that paper.” Blake took the bowl to the sink and started washing it.

“It pays well.” Maggie watched bubbles appear on the wet surface of the new pancakes.

The silence stretched out, only the sizzle of pancakes and the sounds of water as Blake finished washing the bowl. “Didn’t know you wrote for them,” he said at last.

“I write for whoever’s paying.” She watched the pancakes cook.

Blake made a noncommittal “hmm” noise. He dried the bowl and put it back away, right as Maggie was flipping the next round of pancakes. “Speaking of which. How’d that deal end up with Arnold Chauvel?”

“I told you about that?” Maggie hadn’t remembered that conversation. She certainly wouldn’t have shared the details.

“Not the specifics,” he said. “Only that you’d made a deal.”

Maggie wrinkled her nose. “I’ll be happy to be done with it.”

“I don’t blame you. He’s a piece of work.”

Maggie hadn’t expected Blake to know Chauvel, since Chauvel stayed out of the limelight, but Blake was probably courting rich people all the time for his nonprofit. “I didn’t know you’ve met him.”

Blake shook his head. “Only by reputation. I heard he got really handsy with his girlfriend on the dance floor at last year’s gala. The PlantSeed people still talk about it.”

“He has a girlfriend?” That was new information, and Maggie tried to reconcile it with her assumptions about Chauvel thus far.

“Not anymore. Or if he does, he isn’t bringing her to the gala. He doesn’t have a plus-one this year.”

Chauvel was coming to the gala. She hadn’t expected that. He was probably going to ask her about the article’s progress. She’d have to get him a draft before that.

Blake leaned over her shoulder to look at the pancakes. “Those smell good.”

Maggie tried to focus on the pancakes, or their conversation, not Blake’s cheek pressed against hers. He was clearly less aware of personal space when tipsy. “They’re nearly done. You can take the others out of the warming drawer. Don’t fall over again.”

Blake chuckled and grabbed a flowered potholder. He managed to get the plate out without losing his balance or grabbing her leg this time, unfortunately. “Am I allowed to know what you’re writing about for him? Is it scandalous?”

Maggie shook her head. “Keeping that a secret, sorry.”

Blake waggled his eyebrows. “So it is scandalous.”

Maggie didn’t want to think about Chauvel right now. While she removed the last pancakes, Blake poured some syrup into a small dish. Then he rolled up one of the pancakes and dipped it in the syrup.

He must have picked up on her “What the fuck?” expression, because he looked down at what he was doing. “What?” he asked defensively. “You expecting we’re going to sit at the table or something? It’s after midnight.”

Maggie was still flabbergasted, but there was a certain appeal to the simplicity. “Touché,” she said after a bite. She liked how this felt, decadent and a bit silly, perfectly suited for standing in a dimly lit kitchen after midnight.

“See, I’m full of good ideas.” He held up his rolled pancake. “Mind if I double-dip?”

“As long as you don’t mind if I do.” She matched his action. “I got a dress tonight. And some shoes.”

He winced. “Am I going to go broke?”

“You offered to pay!” She swatted him with the spatula.

“Ow!” He rubbed his knuckles, although she hadn’t hit him that hard. “Easy, will you?”