Page 151 of Emerald Malice

NATALIA

“Can I get the birria beef sandwich to go, please?”

The waitress eyes my half-full plate of carbonara. “Of course, ma’am.”

Katya and Mila share a pointed look before Kat whistles. “A second lunch for later? You’re really taking the ‘eating for two’ thing to heart, huh?”

“It’s not for me; it’s for Andrey. He usually works through lunch and forgets to eat, so I want to bring him…” I trail off when they exchange yet another look. “What? You two keep doing this thing. It’s driving me insane.”

“Well,” Kat says, folding her hands on the table in front of her, “Mila and I couldn’t help but notice that you’ve been remarkably happy these past few days.”

Mila nods her agreement. “Ever since you and Andrey had your little lockdown in the pool house. Did your mental breakdown bring you together?”

“Hey!”

Mila shamelessly refuses to take it back. “Come on, Nat. You barely moved for days. It was fucking terrifying.”

Katya nods in reluctant agreement.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Mila continues. “I don’t blame you at all. Dealing with a drunk, angry Viktor is no joke. I have the scars to prove it. It’s enough to drive even the strongest woman into disassociation.”

She’s being generous. I happen to know that neither Katya nor Mila would have shut down the way I did.

“It was a bad moment,” I admit.

“No, babe,” Mila argues, “a ‘bad moment’ is the snakeskin coat I decided to wear to my twenty-first birthday party.”

Katya jumps in with relish. “A ‘bad moment’ is realizing that you already used the last condom in your purse and the hot guy you’ve been chasing for a month is all out, too.”

“A bad moment is?—”

“I get it!”

“We’re getting side-tracked,” Katya says, steering us back to the original topic. “The point is, you’ve been doing really well since then.”

“And we can’t help wondering why.” Mila wags her brows.

In case she isn’t being obvious enough, Katya asks, “Are you and Andrey a thing now or what?”

I glance down to my phone in hopes it’ll save me from getting backed into this particular corner. It hasn’t pinged once since we sat down to lunch, but that doesn’t stop me from hoping.

Nope. Nothing.

Disappointment claws at my chest, and I meet my friends’ eyes. “We’re not together, but we’re… getting along.”

Katya sags. “Seriously? We were so damn sure?—”

“He’s spent every night at the pool house!” Mila says. “You two have to be a thing.”

I purse my lips at Mila. “I thought you were done spying on me.”

She shrugs. “I happen to be sleeping with one of your bodyguards. It’s pillow talk.”

I slash my arms through the air. “I didn’t come out to lunch to be interrogated. Let’s talk about something else. Literally anything. Nice weather we’re having. How ‘bout those Yankees? Any new movies?—”

Mila turns to Katya. “There are stages of grief, but are there stages of love, too?”

“If there are, denial must be the first step in both,” Katya declares.

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