Tangled (The Tangled Series)(71)

“In other words, you’ve been bored out of your mind without me.”

“No. It’s been…productive. I’ve gotten a lot done.”

I smirk. “You’ve missed me.”

She snorts. “I didn’t say that.”

She didn’t have to.

“Come on, Kate, I’ve taken a vow of honesty here. It’s only fair that you do the same.” I lean forward. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you haven’t thought about me—at all—in the last few days.”

“I—”

Buzzzzz…buzzzzz…buzzzzz.

Dinner’s ready. Kate takes another drink from her glass.

“You should get that, Drew. Don’t want it to burn.”

And she’s saved by the buzzer.

For now.





The chicken Marsala I made looks…unique now that it’s actually out of the oven and on our plates.

Okay it’s f*cking frightening. I admit it.

Kate’s brow is furrowed as she pushes at the brown lumps like she’s dissecting a frog in biology. “Did you mix the flour with water before you added it?”

Water? Martha didn’t say anything about water. That bitch.

“You know, Drew, some of the best culinary dishes in history looked disgusting. Presentation doesn’t count for much. It’s all about the taste.”

“Really?”

She picks up her fork and takes a deep breath. “No. I was just trying to make you feel better.”

I stare at my plate. “Thanks for trying.”

Before she takes a bite, I reach across the table and put my hand on hers. “Wait. I’ll go first.”

That way, if the food makes me keel over like bad blowfish, at least one of us will be conscious to call 9-1-1. Plus, if I’m hospitalized, I think there’s an excellent chance Kate would throw a pity f*ck my way.

And don’t think for a second that I wouldn’t take it. In a freaking heartbeat.

I try not to breathe through my nose as I take a bite. Kate stares at me. I chew.

And then I smile slowly. “It’s not bad.”

She seems relieved. Maybe even a little proud. She slides her fork through her lips. Then she nods. “It’s really good. I’m impressed.”

“Yeah—I get that a lot.”

Through the entire meal, our conversation flows easily. Comfortably. I keep the topics safe. We talk about her new client, Matthew and Delores’s burgeoning relationship, and the never-ending political antics going on in DC.

For dessert, I serve strawberries and whipped cream. Strawberries are Kate’s favorite. I knew that from our Lost Weekend. Originally, I was going for strawberry shortcake. But you don’t want to know how the pudding turned out. I don’t think even Matthew would’ve eaten it. When Martha said stir constantly, she wasn’t screwing around.

While we enjoy our last course, I mention Mackenzie’s impending Christmas present.

Kate laughs. Unbelieving. “You’re not really going to buy her a pony, are you?”

“Of course I am. She’s a little girl. Every girl should have a pony.”

She sips her wine. We’re halfway through our second bottle.

“And I’m going to get one of those carts like the horses in Central Park. That way they can train it to take her to school.”

“This is New York City, Drew. Where are they going to keep it?”

“They have a five-bedroom condo. Two of the rooms are filled with Alexandra’s useless shit. I figure they can clean one out and make it the pony’s room.”

She looks at me straight-faced. “The pony’s room?”

“Yeah. Why not?”

“How are they going to get it to their floor?”

“Freight elevator. All the older buildings have one.”

She sits back in her chair. “Well, you’ve thought of everything haven’t you?”

I take a drink. “I always do.”

“Have you thought about what method your sister will use to kill you?”

“I’m sure she’ll surprise me. Will you defend me when she tries?”

She fingers her wine glass and glances up at me through those insanely long lashes. “No way, Pony Boy. She’s bigger than me. You’re on your own.”

I put my hand over my heart. “I’m crushed.”

She’s not buying it. “You’ll get over it.”

Our laughter fades into relaxed smiles. And I’m content to just watch her for a moment. She’s staring at me too.

Then she clears her throat and looks away. “This is a good CD.”

She’s talking about the music that’s been playing in the background for the last few hours.

“I can’t take all the credit. The guys helped me burn it.”

On cue, “I Touch Myself” by the Divinyls pours from the speakers.

“Jack picked that one.”

Kate laughs, and I stand up and press the button on the CD player, changing the song.

“And since I most likely only have a few weeks to live—” I hold my hand out to Kate “—may I have this dance?”

A new song fills the room: “Then” by Brad Paisley. I’m not really into country music, but Brad’s pretty cool. He’s a guy’s guy, even for a singer.