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CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“SOMEONE LOOKS HAPPYthis morning.” Norma smiles at me as I enter the kitchen.
After getting only a few short hours of sleep, Mateo gave me quite possibly the best wakeup call I’ve ever received. I guess the evidence of how much I enjoyed it is still written all over my face.
“Good night’s sleep,” I lie.
“You sure that’s it?” She eyes me with a quirk of her brow.
I’m not sure how much Norma knows, if anything. We haven’t exactly made what we’re doing public. Quite the opposite, actually. But Norma’s room is right next to mine, and she’s not a stupid woman. I’m sure she knowsexactlywhat’s going on.
“Good morning, ladies.” Dimitri enters the kitchen, effectively ending the conversation.
“Morning,” we both say in unison.
“What’s for breakfast this morning?”
“There’s some eggs left.” Norma points to a large skillet on the stove.
“Eggs?” Dimitri coils his nose. “That’s it? Where’s the bacon? Where’s the biscuits?” He’s teasing, but that doesn’t stop Norma’s gaze from narrowing in at him.
“Keep complaining and you’ll go hungry.”
I laugh at Dimitri’s horrified expression.
“You wouldn’t do that to me.” He grins.
“Wouldn’t I?” Norma crosses her arms in front of herself.
“You know, eggs sound amazing.” Dimitri smiles.
“That’s what I thought.” Norma’s lips tip up in a half smile.
“Anyone seen Mateo this morning?”
“I think he’s out back with some of the guys,” I tell him, knowing that’s exactly where he is, or at least, where he was. As if somehow summoned by the sound of his name, Mateo appears in the kitchen, his expression tense.
“There you are.” Dimitri turns toward him after shoveling some eggs onto a plate.
“You want some breakfast?” Norma asks, to which he replies with a stiff shake of his head.
“Dimitri, with me.” He exits the kitchen as quickly as he entered, not once looking in my direction. Dimitri follows directly after him.
“What the heck was that about?” I voice aloud.
“Hard to say.” Norma turns, grabbing a dishrag out of the sink before wringing the water out of it.
“Sorry I wasn’t up to help with breakfast,” I tell her as she begins wiping down the countertops.
“My girl, you do not work here. It’s not your responsibility to help me in any way.”
“I know. But I like helping you. I feel bad that you have to do it all.”
“After all these years, I’m used to it. Besides, what else am I going to do?”
She has a point. She’s almost as much of a prisoner in this house as I am.
“Is there anything I can help with now?”
