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She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, then rose from her seat, apparently having reached her fill of me. She didn’t trust me. That was fine. She was a beautiful mess, possibly even more of a mess than I was. I was better off without her anyway, so I didn’t have to constantly look over my shoulder, wondering when she’d turn on me.
People left. That’s what they did. I was better off on my own.
“I have to make a call,” she said.
“Sure.”
She pulled out her phone and stepped outside.
I didn’t expect her to come back, and that was fine. If she wanted to pretend to make a phone call as an excuse to escape while she thought I wasn’t looking, I wouldn’t follow her.
Unfortunately though, without Morgan, and without my wallet, I had no way to pay for the coffee.
The cufflinks on my sleeves were likely worth more than two drinks. I’d leave them when I left, as it was the best I could offer.
I took another sip of my coffee, catching a glob of viscous syrup and a chewy berry with it. The flavor wasn’t a bad combination, sweet and bitter, but the texture left much to be desired.
After I inevitably left this diner, I wasn’t sure what I would do. I had no place to sleep and no money for a hotel. Without Morgan, I didn’t even know where I’d been when she hit me with her hammer.
Which meant letting her go meant losing any chance of figuring out who I was.
The door opened, and she walked back through.
My heart clenched with both nerves and a flicker of relief.
She slapped money on the table. “Let’s go.”
“Where?” I asked. Apparently unable to help myself, I prodded, “I thought you left.”
“I can’t abandon you.” Her tone suggested she was mad about it. “I told you you’re my responsibility, and I meant it. But if you try to molest or murder anyone, I will kill you.”
“Why would I do that?”
“I don’t know. You put blueberries in your coffee—who knows what else you’re capable of?”
TWELVE
MORGAN
When I’d slipped out of the pancake restaurant, my call to Layana had been totally sly, with me not even suggesting in any way that I would try to bring Tristan home with me. Instead of being straightforward, I’d danced around what I needed to ask with related, non-incriminating questions. Was everyone going to be home tonight—for hanging out reasons because I’d love to spend time with my gals? They weren’t. Did we still have that extra quilt in the closet—because I expected to be cold, not because I planned to hide a man under the bed and needed something to cover him? Yes, we still had the quilt.
Of course Layana knew me too well and saw right through my tactic. And instead of giving her bestie approval of my terrible idea, she shut me down and said something along the lines of:under no circumstances should you even consider bringing home another stray.
We both knew I was going to do it anyway.
So, when I showed up at our apartment, stray in tow, it wasn’t surprising that she was prepared to intervene.
I used my key, but I was only able to open the door two inches before it caught and held there, the chain preventing me from entering.
“Aha!” Layana pressed her eyeball to the crack. “I caught you.”
I stepped closer to the crack, to be sure she couldn’t see past me.
“Caught me what?” I shook my head. “Trying to enter my own apartment?”
“I told you no more strays,” she said. “No men. No pets. No guests of any kind without prior approval. It’s against the rules, Morgan, and I can’t keep covering for you or we’re both going to get kicked out.”
“That would never happen. Chloe and Stella love you,” I said. “Plus you’re not my keeper. I’m my own woman.”
