Page 82 of Worst in Show

AlCaponesGhost25: How about hot dog girl? *winky face emoji*

SingerQueen: Aren’t you supposed to be sick?

AlCaponesGhost25: Just had an invigorating visit… What’s your question?

SingerQueen: Were you telling the truth about when you realized this was me?

AlCaponesGhost25: Yes.

SingerQueen: You had no idea before that?

AlCaponesGhost25: If you’re asking would I string you along and pretend to be a stranger in order to surreptitiously learn information about you, the answer is no. Would never.

SingerQueen: That’s very specific and on point. Mind reader?

AlCaponesGhost25: Not last time I checked.

SingerQueen: Phew.

AlCaponesGhost25: Can I ask you a question?

SingerQueen: Only fair.

AlCaponesGhost25: Did I ruin things by telling you?

Did he ruin… There’s a flutter at the pit of my stomach at the implication. I bite my lip before I let my thumbs touch the screen.

SingerQueen: I hope not.

This is fulfilling almost all my nurse fantasies,” Leo jokes when I bring him some bread and milk to go with his peanut butter for breakfast. “Are you actually a fever dream?”

I laugh and throw one of Tilly’s plush toys at him. “Behave. We’ll be having no sponge baths today.”

“Aw,” he whines. “Not even if I say please?”

“Even then. But it’s good to see you’re feeling a little better.” My face is threatening to change color, so I busy myself pouring him a glass of milk and then putting the carton back in the fridge. Should I bring up our online exchange at all? I’m desperate to know what things he was worried he had ruined.

“I slept like a rock thanks to a full belly last night,” he says, and the moment passes.

“You should still take it easy today. Jaz has things covered.”

He wrinkles his nose at me and cocks his head. “Did you really place her as a spy in my store?”

I lick a dab of peanut butter off my finger. “I had nothing to do with it. And even if I did, you should know she’s about as cunning as a… um… whatever is the opposite of a fox. Here you go.” I set a plate down in front of him.

“Thank you. Will you keep me company?”

I look at the time. I have a few minutes before I have to get the store ready to open, so I take a seat at the table.

He munches in silence, occasionally pausing to have a sip of milk. His complexion is not as pallid today, and there’s life back in his eyes.

“Think you’ll be able to train this weekend?” I ask.

“I have to or Tilly will lose everything she’s learned so far. Saturday probably, if that works for you. Maybe Sunday, too.”

“What’s her talent going to be? In the show?”

“I can’t tell you that.” He says it so matter-of-factly.

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