AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I survey the board, seeing she’s right. I give a fake huff and sit back, and then I grin at her. “So you did. How do you keep beating me?”
“You don’t plan in advance,” Simon says, clearing his throat and putting his phone down.
I eye him for a moment and then raise one eyebrow. “How’s that?”
“There’s a trick to playing, and you fall for it every time,” he says, leaning forward.
I can smell his cologne with the movement, and I find myself leaning in, too, hanging on his every word.
“You should always start out here, in one of the four corners, and then you take another corner and then another. Once you have three of the corners and they haven’t blocked you, you will have the option of two different winning squares—the middle side or the actual middle. If your opponent doesn’t know this, you win every time.”
“You sneaky sneakster,” I tell Ivy, lightly poking her shoulder, and she giggles, poking me back.
Our food is delivered, and we all hungrily dive in, no one talking for a while as we stuff our faces. I marvel at the normal feeling of sitting here with Ivy and her dad, having dinner.
“Isn’t this a happy little family?” a voice says, cutting off our eating.
We all raise our heads in tandem, looking at the man who interrupted us.
Boris.
I roll my eyes, and Simon looks less than thrilled.
“Oh, we aren’t—” Ivy starts, about to give away our secret, but Simon cuts her off.
“Boris, I would say it’s a pleasure, but it’s really not.”
His gruff tone is off-putting, to say the least, and having been on the receiving end of it, I’m surprised Boris’s smile doesn’t slip from his face. But he remains standing there, his expression never faltering.
“My, what a darling little girl. What’s your name, sweetheart?” Boris asks Ivy.
He’s really laying it on thick, and I glance at Simon, seeing his jaw working back and forth.
This isn’t good.
“Ivy Jane Morrow,” Ivy says proudly. “I’m almost eight.” She grins at Boris.
He smiles back, but it’s not one that you would give to a child. It’s cold and calculated, and I’m the one glaring at him now.
“Aren’t you adorable? Just the spitting image of your mom,” Boris says.
I can’t help the gasp that sneaks out of me. I don’t know much about Simon’s situation, but I do know he wouldn’t appreciate Boris talking about it.
“My mom? You knew my mom?” Ivy asks, sitting up on her knees in the booth.
“I did. I knew Jane really well,” Boris says.
Before anyone else can react, Simon is out of the booth, his hand fisted around Boris’s collar, and he’s spitting words into his face. I stand quickly, trying to shield Ivy from the view, and I grab Simon’s arm before he punches Boris. Admittedly, I would like to see Boris with a black eye, but Simon would regret doing something like that in front of his daughter.
“Simon,” I say calmly, but he doesn’t even glance my way.
He’s still saying things under his breath to Boris, and I can see spit landing on his cheek. The strange thing is, Boris is still smiling that crafty smile, and he doesn’t look the least bit put out or afraid; it’s almost like he’s thrilled this is happening. I glance around, looking for cameras or anyone filming this. We don’t need to be the Friday night special on the show this week.
“Simon,” I repeat and pull his arm again.
With one final glare, he releases Boris’s collar, but the material stays bunched at his throat.
Simon pulls his wallet out, throwing down a few twenty-dollar bills, and turns to me and Ivy. “Come on. It’s time to go,” he says, not looking either of us in the eye.
