Undecided(34)

“I don’t need to look for her.”

I frown. “Are you sure? The hardware store is three blocks down. I know Marcela likes to shop, but two hours is a lot, even for her.”

Nate sighs and runs a hand over his head, knocking the hat askew. “We had a…disagreement.”

“About what?”

“I’m dating someone.”

I do a double-take. He could have admitted to smashing out the window in a drug-fueled rage and I wouldn’t have been so surprised. “Come again?”

“You heard me.”

“You—I—But—Who?”

“Thanks, Nora. That’s really great.”

“Well, I’m sorry, I’m just surprised. I thought you…”

The look he gives me warns me not to say “loved Marcela,” so I bite my tongue. “I don’t,” he says tersely. “Not anymore. I’m dating Celestia, and it’s going well. And how Marcela feels about it doesn’t factor in.”

“Celestia?”

“Yeah. You know her, actually. She comes in from time to time. Blond hair, really pretty…fur coat.” He mumbles the last words into the crook of his arm, pretending to fix his hat.

I gape. “Did you just say fur coat?”

He clears his throat. “Maybe?”

“As in mink?”

“I don’t know what animal it is.”

“You’re dating Mink Coat.”

“I’m not sure it’s mink.”

“No wonder Marcela’s annoyed! Her drink orders are dreadful.”

“They’re…specific.”

“She wears mink year-round!”

“What’s wrong with—Okay, fine. The fur’s a little odd, but on days like today, you have to admit, it’s perfect.”

I roll my eyes. “Okay, Nate. You got me.”

He smiles a little. “Sometimes you have to accept what’s right in front of you.” He gestures to the window. “And what’s not.”

“I really don’t think that analogy works.”

At least, it doesn’t, until Marcela strides up, a boxed space heater tucked under each arm. She shoulders her way through the front door and dumps the heaters on the counter. “Voila,” she says without stopping. We watch her disappear into the kitchen in a rush of particularly frosty air.

We’re quiet for a moment. “Wow,” I say finally.

“Yeah.”

“What’d she say when you told her?”

He blows out a breath. “I didn’t exactly ‘tell’ her. We bumped into her last night when we were walking home from dinner and she looked startled, but not angry. Then when she came in this morning I tried to tell her I’d been seeing Celestia for the past month—”

“Month?”

“And she just froze me out.” A pause. “That was before the window broke.”

“Life imitating art.”

“Or just shitty luck mirroring shitty luck.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, if you like Mink Coat, I’m happy for you.”

“I like Celestia, I do not like mink coats.”

“It’s too cold for mink, anyway. Fox, maybe.”

He glares at me and tries not to laugh. “Go do some work. I have to call these glass guys and ask what’s taking so long.”

I head into the back and find Marcela smearing frosting on a tray of cooled cinnamon buns. “Smells good.”

“They’re warm, that’s all that matters.”

“Fair enough.” Because of the ovens and the sanitizer, the kitchen is always hotter than the front. Normally we complain about it, but today it’s a blessing. When Marcela doesn’t say anything else I add, “Nate told me about Celestia.”

She snorts. “Me too.”

“And you’re…angry?”

“That she’s dating him to get half-price drinks? Of course I’m bothered.”

I watch her massacre a cinnamon bun in the name of caring. “You look more than a little bothered.”

She sighs and tosses down the spatula. “I was just surprised.”

“So was I.” I watch her closely. “Are you jealous?”

“What? No! Look, you should be bothered, too. She’s going to come in here even more now, with her fur coats and her ridiculous drink orders. We’re all affected.”

“It’s not—”

She holds up a hand. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. It’s not important. Tell me something good.”

I rack my brain, filtering past the Dean-Ripley-gave-me-a-sex-talk horror until I come to something I know she’ll like. “I got invited to the Alpha Sigma Phi Halloween party.”

Her eyes light up. “You’re kidding!”

“It’s true.”

“We have to go. I’ve been trying to think of ways to get in, but my best guess was tracking down that army man you hooked up with, except I don’t think we ever saw his face when it wasn’t painted green.”

I groan. “Don’t remind me.”

“Right. Sorry. Now let’s talk about our costumes. Slutty cat? Slutty aliens? Slutty nurses? No, what am I saying? We’re modern women. Slutty doctors!”