Page 19 of It Starts With A No

“Proof that I actually did text him. I emailed him, too. I can show that to you later.” She put the phone down on the wooden coffee table. “If you scroll through the messages, you’ll see that he hasn’t replied for a while. Go ahead,” she said when he didn’t reach for her phone. “I know you want to.”

His lips curled again. It seemed he was in a better mood this morning.

Then again, a lot happened last night.

“I trust you.”

She laughed softly. “Would you be so nice to me if I couldn’t get you that loan?”

“Is this revenge for how Elton treated you? Because he and I are very different people.”

“So are the Eolenfelds and me.” Her brows flicked up when his eyes narrowed. “Just saying.” She got up, squaring her shoulders. “Have you had breakfast? Would you like something to eat?”

“Your hand’s injured.”

She waved it off. “It’s fine.”

Seth stood and followed her into the kitchen. “I can order something in if you’re hungry,” he said when she opened a cabinet.

“If you’re so concerned about my hand,” she took out a glass bowl, “then crack the eggs for me.” She pulled out a small carton of eggs. “Grandma Moretti is always sending me food. It’ll go to waste if I don’t eat it.”

“Isn’t it weird how the Eolenfelds are always talking about not wasting when they have so much?”

“Since when do they talk about not wasting?” The Eolenfelds who Clary knew were all about wasting: wasting money, wasting their lives.

Still standing in front of the refrigerator, Clary peered over her shoulder. “But Grandma Moretti—Giulia Moretti—isn’t an Eolenfeld. And I thought we’d already established that we’re all individuals who shouldn’t bear the sins of another.”

He nodded once. “We have.”

She grabbed a packet of bacon strips and closed the refrigerator. “Good.” She turned back to him. “And after you’ve tasted Grandma Moretti’s food, or mine, you won’t ever want to waste it either.”

Seth laughed again. “Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

She pursed her lips. “Forget the bacon.” She opened the refrigerator and exchanged the bacon for a glass container. “Turkey with red wine sauce.”

“I don’t think people have that for breakfast.”

“So? I won’t tell the breakfast police.” She tapped on the glass container. “Eat this, then tell me if you’d ever let it go bad.” She leaned forward on her elbows. “And I won’t have to use my hands so much to put it in the microwave.”

His eyes slitted.

“I’ll even let you rescue me from that task.” She gestured at the container. “I’ll let you put it in the microwave.”

Seth shook his head. “You’re strange.”

“You’re annoying. Elton more so than you, but you’re a close second.”

A corner of his lips hooked back into a smirk. “Don’t most people only eat turkey at Thanksgiving?” He took the container and put it into the microwave, then stepped back and let her deal with the settings.

“That’s why it’s a lot cheaper at other times of the year.” She shrugged. “And it’s supposed to be healthier than chicken.” She waved it off. “Regardless, it’s delicious.”

“Do I still need to crack the eggs?”

She shook her head. “There’s more than enough turkey.”

“Good. Because I don’t know how to crack eggs.”

Clary frowned at him.

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