Chapter Twenty
At lunch the next day, Lucas comes into my office uninvited and drops a steaming mug of coffee on my desk. He’s even taken the time to add a splash of cream.
“What is that?” I ask, keeping my attention on the mug and not Lucas standing beside my chair.
“Coffee.”
A small kindness from him feels like a diamond ring.
I push the thought aside and reach for the plate of coffee cake I saved for him.
“Cake,” I say, handing the plate over to him.
I’m amused by the fact that we’re feeding and caffeinating each other like an old couple. Considering the events of the last few days, I suspect we’re subconsciously keeping our energy up in anticipation of impromptu office orgasms.
I take a sip of my coffee and he takes a bite of cake. We hold eye contact while we do it, like we know it’s poisoned.
The coffee is just the right temperature.
“Do you own jeans?” I ask casually, motioning to his pressed slacks.
“I had them on during quarantine.”
On second thought, the coffee is too hot. I set it down with a sigh.
“Well put some on Saturday evening. You and Madeleine are coming to game night. My mom has been insisting.”
It’s a lie—she hasn’t brought it up in weeks. It’s my idea. It’s too late to ignore Lucas, and for the time being, it’s impossible to put any space between us. So, I’ve decided to use controlled environments to study him, to see if I can figure out his motive for acting the way he has. It’s the closest thing to a date that enemies can have.
“What if I’m busy on Saturday?” he asks coyly.
“That would make me the happiest girl in the world,” I say, clasping my hands in mock prayer.
“I’ll let you know.”
He’s posturing, but I already know his answer. Criminals can’t help but want to return to the scene of the crime.
“You do that,” I say, turning so he can’t see my smile.
My mom is tickled pink that I am not only willing to attend game night, but that I’m taking the initiative to plan it.
On Friday night, we’re at the grocery store getting supplies. “We need appetizers and finger foods. Lots of drinks. Definitely Jack and Coke.”
“Isn’t that Lucas’ favorite drink?” my mom asks.
“Everyone likes that drink, Mom.”
“Not me, gives me acid reflux.”
“Okay, everyone under fifty likes it.”
By the time we leave, our cart is overloaded with party supplies. I look like a contestant on Supermarket Sweep, and the cashier asks if we’re having a big party.
“A rager,” I lie.
The next morning, Lucas is mowing my mother’s lawn again and I am standing at the window with a cup of coffee, watching. Our neighbor across the street, Mrs. Betty is doing the same. I tip my mug to her and she smiles. It’s a silent agreement: I won’t tell if you won’t.
“Enjoying the view?” my mom asks, coming up behind me.
At first, I panic, afraid I’ve been caught—but then I remember I’m not doing anything wrong.
“Just making sure he doesn’t mess up.”
“Well c’mon. I need your help.”
She puts me to work. For the entire day, I clean and cook. I whip up chicken salad and guacamole. I spruce the pillows on the couch, step back, and then spruce them again. I meticulously hide any childhood photo that portrays me in a bad light, and I help in the kitchen in between it all.
Madeleine is the real champion. She shows up around lunchtime with champagne and orange juice for mimosas and I greedily accept her offering. I sip glass after glass until I’ve got a perfect buzz going. The pressure of planning game night is now a dull memory.
“Why is this such a big deal for you?” Madeleine asks when we go upstairs to get changed.
“It’s not.”
“You cut each sandwich into a heart.”
“I thought they looked cute that way.”
“You put balloons on the mailbox.”
“It’s a party, Madeleine. It’s got to look festive!”
“You rearranged the furniture in the living room four times.”
“Yes. My mom really needs to bring in a feng shui consultant. There’s some pretty bad juju in this house.”
“Uh huh. Here, turn and I’ll zip you.”
I don’t tell Madeleine that I put an equal amount of thought into picking out the perfect dress. It’s red, a color I usually avoid. I saw it hanging on a mannequin in a shop window downtown and I knew I had to have it. It’s short and flirty and I’ve never worn anything like it.
“Daaamn Daisy,” Madeleine says, stepping back to assess me.
I’ve only managed half a smile when something out on the front path catches my eye. Party guests!
I run to the window and peer down. With my mom and Madeleine already here, that only leaves Lucas and his parents…but the person walking up the path is an unexpected guest, someone my mother definitely didn’t run past me.