Page 13 of Remy

She nods slowly, her attention remaining on Alexandra.

“Was there something else?” I ask.

“Other than how ridiculously cold it is in here?” She wraps her arms around her waist and shivers. “I don’t know how you handle it in winter.”

“Layers.” She already knows that, though. “What’s really on your mind, Ive?”

She winces, the expression scrunching her beautiful face. “Well… speaking of Hugo…” Her gaze finally meets mine. “You know I’m not one to snitch and all that…”

“But?” I straighten, as if better posture will make whatever mess my least-favorite employee has created become somewhat easier to digest.

Her hands fall to her sides, her eyes blinking back at me with sympathy. “The cremator was warm when I came in this morning.”

What the fuck?

Again?

“He did a pickup last night, didn’t he?” I remember the additional body bag in the cooler when I dragged my half-asleep ass into work earlier but haven’t had time to learn about our latest client.

“Yeah. At around ten. An eighty-year-old woman from Settler’s Nursing Home.”

“Goddamnit.” I yank the face shield off my head.

Her wince deepens. “I’m sorry for telling you. It’s just that?—”

“Don’t be. There’s no way you could’ve kept this to yourself.” I cross the room, dumping the face and mouth shields to the bin. “What did my father say?”

She gives me a funny look. “Carlo has the day off, remember?”

I turn my back to her and grab the counter with both hands, briefly closing my eyes. Shit. I hate how frequent my dad’s casual days have become. I hate even more how I’m now going to have to deal with Hugo when he should’ve been fired the first time he messed with the retort.

“I’ll speak to him.” I paste on a half-hearted smile and turn back to my friend, my braid seeming overwhelmingly tight despite some of the loosened hair tickling my cheeks. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I am worried.” She approaches, her sympathetic expression sinking under my skin. “I know how much you hate this sort of stuff, and if your dad were here I would’ve taken it straight to him. But…”

“But he’s not.” And I’m yet to learn how to explode into a million bats and disappear whenever an unwanted human interaction arises, so… “I need to start learning how to handle management issues. This’ll be good for me.”

She raises a slow brow. “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”

Me, obviously.

I shake it off. “I’ll be fine.”

“You’d be fine if you didn’t hate socializing… or people in general.”

“I don’t hate those things.” Well, not all the time. Not since one dreamy night six months ago.

Ninety percent of interactions and ninety-nine percent of people—for sure.

Her other brow hikes to meet the raised one. “Really? Tell me the last time you conversed with the living in a pleasurable way, my sweet, hermitted Olivia.”

“I talk to you?—”

“Other than me, your dad, and Allison.”

Okay. Fine. That makes things more difficult. Yet she’s well aware of my one exceptional experience.

I beam a sultry smile. My heart does a little pitty-pat. “That night?—”

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