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Jesse’s query, mild enough, daggers my exhausted brain. It’s only nine a.m., and my three hours of sleep have to stretch for a long while more, so I’m bumping around in my kitchen on a desperate search for something to put into the coffee maker.
“If you can seriously find a corner we didn’t check yet, have at it.”
I let my dry tone stand for itself since I’ve succeeded in locating half a bag of Sarah’s ground Arabica. Shockingly, it still smells decent. Even more surprising, there aren’t any cobwebs in the carafe. I sigh heavily, wishing providence was feeling as magnanimous in other ways.
“Valid point.” My friend maneuvers his wheelchair in a smooth three-sixty to behold the piles that evoke dystopian havoc across the apartment. Everything from clothes and hand weights to books and vinyl records are evidence that I’m more nostalgic than I pretendnotto be. Shit, there’s even a jar of the marbles I used to collect, as well as a Roman centurion costume from some Halloween rave that he talked me into attending a few years ago.
“Tearing the place apart was the only way I kept Kara from freaking out completely,” I say while jabbing the machine’s start button. “I think she forced her head to the pillow only because of anticipating Veronica’s early summons this morning. Between perusing my baby picture album and the high school yearbooks, she finally passed out.”
“Thank God for small miracles.” He shakes his head. “I’ll never live down that bad haircut from junior year.”
“The cut or the DIY purple highlights?” I snark out the last part while rounding the corner to respond to a knock on the door. My instincts are already snapping to attention, pre-emptive expectations for another bad surprise in what’s felt like a year of them, but I breathe back the anxiety. Lately, the worst blows are from guests who don’t bother with the door.
“We’re streakingwhatpurple? Or should I ask?”
I blink at the slight leather-and-denim clad figure on my welcome mat.
“Reg.” While I withhold the overt question mark from my tone, it’s probably apparent in my gawk. “Are you okay? What’s—”
“Take it down a peg,” she reassures. “I’m merely here at your father’s request.”
“Request?” I sneer. Zeus no more requested this of her than a sultan asking a lutist for a tune. Refusing was never her option.
“Don’t be daft.” She smacks my shoulder while letting herself in. “You know damn well why he materialized this morning as if he owned the bookshop. Middle of the erotica section, to be exact.”
“Shit.” My grimace comes hard and fast. “I’m sorry.”
“Be more sorry that you proposed and didn’t even tell us,” she retaliates. “Bloody hell. Not even a glance at the ring.”
“Ring?” Jesse grabs his armrests and stiffens his spine. “Kane! What the living f—”
“Chill.” I swing up a stiff hand. “There’s no ring.”
“But you plighted to her, yes?” says Reg.
“Plighted to…?” Jesse’s gaze bugs. “Youproposed? Way to bury the lede, asshole.”
“No,” I snap. “I mean, yes. But no.”
Their narrowed stares bore into me.
“Weareengaged…so to speak…”
“So to speak?” Jesse’s at another full huff. “How? Because I hear youspeaking, man, but nothing’s making sense.”
“Does anything, when the Valaris are involved?”
I try proving the point by committing to another scoff, though Regina’s scrutiny is in fine form too. Between that and Jesse’s ongoing glare, I’m toast.
“Kell…kind of blurted it,” I confess.
Jesse’s energy instantly goes sideways. Not enough for Reg to notice, but just enough for me to. “Kell?How?”
“Her intention was completely noble,” I defend. “But the circumstances were nuts. We were at the Beverly Center and found ourselves crashing a date between my mom and Z. A minute later, Veronica was there with a Chihuahua under one arm and a whole fiesta in her eyes—”
“Hold up,” Jesse cuts in again. “This was last night? Weren’t you and Kara at the Earthquake Relief thing at the Pendry? How did you end up at that mall?”
I drag a hand through my hair. “Long answer or longer answer?”
