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Kira slides the eggs and bacon onto the plate. I have to admit it looks pretty good. Too bad she doesn’t have extra for me to snag a bite.
“It’s not perfect for our purposes seeing as I’ve just told you I can’t sleep when it’s sixty-five.”
I watch her as she goes to sit down in the breakfast nook by the window and starts scrolling on her phone before taking a bite of her food.
“You didn’t say you couldn’t sleep, you just said –”
“I can’t sleep if it’s a pin under sixty-nine. And that’s my final offer.”
For someone who spends all her time in the basement of Wynters Corp writing code, she clearly drives a hard bargain. If I disliked her more, I’d probably fight harder. “I can do sixty-nine.”
The slightest flush creeps up in her cheeks. “Um. Great.”
I resist smiling. Does Kira Solace’s mind belong in the gutter? If so, I’d like to see what else makes her blush.
“Is that all? I have to do my New York Times Crossword.”
So do I. But I usually do it lying in bed under the covers rather than in front of a full breakfast at seven in the morning.
“Yes, that’s all.”
“Great. Thanks for the talk, Mr. Wynters.” She flings my title at me like a stone from a slingshot. It hits me right in the sternum. I don’t like it. Feels false. Feels…
Feels like she doesn’t like me.
But you know what? That’s just fine. We don’t have to like each other. For the next few weeks, we’re just roommates on vacation and nothing more.
I can do that. Even if it has to be sixty-nine degrees.
Our first dayat the cabin is relatively uneventful mostly because we avoid each other as much as possible. Kira barely leaves her room after her breakfast. I almost feel bad for admonishing her about the temperature until I remember how hot I was waking up in the morning.
When I wake up on the second day, the temperature is at the agreed-upon sixty-nine degrees. I might be an adult, but I’m still a man. It’s hard to resist a chuckle at the six and the nine side by side.
Kira seems more active today. I’ve allowed her to commandeer the office on the first floor seeing as she’s actually here to do work while I’m here pretendingnotto do work. Although, I have given myself a break from attending to emails to read.
I’ve been working through all of Proust slowly but surely over the past few years and have found a wonderful little spot out on the veranda overlooking the backyard. I ignore the bubbling hot tub in my periphery so as not to dredge up the shame of Kira’s arrival.
Lost in the prose, I don’t even notice Kira stepping out on the veranda until she clears her throat.
“Ehem.”
“Mm?” I glance her way and then look back at the words on the page. “What?”
“You’re outside.”
I furrow my brow and place my bookmark between the pages. Clearly, something is going on. “Yes, it does appear that way, doesn’t it?”
“If you’reoutside, why are all the lights oninside?” Kira asks. “For that matter, why are any lights on in the common spaces when it’s noon on a cloudless summer day?”
I peek into the window behind me and see that, indeed, the warm yellow lights are on. At night, they fill the living room with a very pleasant glow. During the day, they’re eaten up by the clear white light streaming in through the skylights.
“Ah. Sorry about that. Must have forgotten.”
Kira doesn’t move a muscle. Her usually pleasant, if not stoic, countenance is weighed down by her bending lips. “I didn’t know billionaires contributed to climate change in their personal lives too.”
I scoff. “Beg your pardon?”
Her eyes skitter away from me. “I’m just saying. It’s wasteful.”
