Page 44
Alicia froze with a scoop full of coffee grounds hovering precariously over a battered, plastic coffeemaker. She blushed, an alluring, pink flush spreading across her cheeks that made me wonder if that was what her ass—
She cleared her throat and dumped the grounds into the machine. “Good morning.”
“How’re you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been hit over the head by an entire French vineyard.”
I stifled a surprised laugh. “Yeah. Same.”
“I’m glad to see you’re alive.” She finally glanced at me again, those red-rimmed hazel eyes watery but not as hard or defensive as they used to be when she was looking at me. “I’ve been wondering when you were going to emerge from your cave.”
“Yeah, it’s a lot later than I realized,” I murmured quietly. “I would’ve still been fast asleep if not for my overenthusiastic nephew and sister-in-law, though.”
Tasha let out another particularly loud snore and I glanced back at her on the couch. “How long does she plan on living here? Do you think she’s a permanent fixture, or…”
I trailed off, realizing that my curiosity finally getting the better of me didn’t mean she owed me any answers. Alicia’s shoulders dropped a little and she averted her gaze from mine to stare at the machine, gnawing on her lower lip until she eventually just shrugged.
“It’s complicated. Tasha is my best friend and—”
Before she could finish, the ancient coffeemaker let out an ear-piercing, metallic shriek. My spine snapped straight and I took a step back, already rounding the island to grab her so we could take cover.
Alicia, however, didn’t move. “Oh, it’s fine. It does this all the time.”
The next moment, the plastic lid blew open with a sharp pop, a geyser of scalding hot, brown liquid spitting all over the counter and hissing angrily as it splashed against the wall, pooling around the electrical outlet.
“Fuck,” I snapped, lunging across the short distance and snaking an arm gently around her waist to pull her away from the boiling liquid. “Stay back. I’ll get it.”
Reaching around the side of the spitting death trap, I grabbed the thick rubber cord and yanked it out of the wall outlet. The machine let out one last, pathetic hiss, sputtering a glob of wet coffee grounds onto the counter, and finally went dead.
Once I was sure it was over, I let go of her waist, my pulse hammering from the sudden burst of adrenaline, but at least the hangover was long gone. “What the hell was that?”
“It’s fine,” she said quickly, grabbing a roll of paper towels stashed close enough that I suspected this was a regular occurrence. “I’ll clean it up and start a new pot in a minute. We just have to hold the lid down with a heavy book. I forgot this morning because my brain is fried, but we’ll have fresh coffee in no time.”
“This happens all the time, huh? That’s what you said?” I shook my head and glanced back at the seemingly harmless appliance. “That thing is an improvised explosive device. If you try to make fresh coffee, it’s likely we’re going both to be taken out by a rogue bean-bullet.”
“It’s a classic,” she argued, wiping at a brown puddle before it dripped to the floor. “It just has character, is all.”
“What it has is a body count,” I reasoned, snatching the paper towels from her hand and taking over the wiping duties because hungover, she didn’t seem to have much coordination. “When we’re done here, we’re going to the store to get a new one.”
Alicia shook her head immediately, the defensive spark in her eyes fading as she glanced down at her pajama pants and started fidgeting with the tie. “I, uh, I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I just, uh, I don’t think I can afford a new one right now.”
I frowned but tossed the wet, disintegrating paper into the trash and leaned against the edge of the island. “Are you really so hungover that basic mathematical logic is failing you?”
She finally looked back up at me, confusion clouding her eyes as they moved from one of mine to the other. “What?”
“You can afford it,” I said, stepping closer until she had to tilt her chin up to maintain eye contact. “In fact, we both can. We’re rich, remember? You have money, but you also have a card linked to my accounts, which means if we need a coffeemaker that won’t try to assassinate us every morning, we’ll go get one. On my dime. Or yours. Whatever makes you happy.”
Alicia stared up at me, her lips parting like reality had only just broken through. A moment later, a slow, beautiful smile lit her entire face. Watching it happen felt like seeing a piece of iron melt, effectively mending one of the many cold, hard cracks that had been living on my heart for the better part of my adulthood.
I swallowed hard, backing away before I gave into the urge to make her forget all about coffee, and tried to remind myself that while we were newlyweds, we weren’t those kind of newlyweds.
“Right,” I said, “Let’s go put on some actual clothes and maybe some shoes too. I refuse to be seen in public with a wife wearing fleece penguins on her feet.”
“They’re puffins, Holden,” she muttered, laughing under her breath. Then she turned and started heading toward the stairs.
