Page 17 of The Contract

My anger fizzles and I go back to being totally mystified. I’m not awake enough for whatever alternate reality I’ve stepped into. What time is it anyway?

I glance at the microwave. It’s 10:56. Jesus. I never get up this early. When I grab a filter and the coffee can from the cupboard, I hear, “Don’t bother. We’ll get coffee out.”

I glare over my shoulder. Kenzie’s eyes practically dance and a wicked grin curves her lips.

“Ooh,” she says. “I see it now.”

“See what now?” I fill the pot at the sink, painfully aware of the rag wrapped around the faucet because the leaky thing drips annoyingly.

“Why I’m here to take you to your appointment. I assume you signed?”

I almost drop the pot. “Appointment? For what? What are you talking about?”

“Is this it?” She snags the file folder from my desk. My heart jumps.

“I haven’t …” I trail off. What, decided?

I mean, yeah, I signed it, but I hadn’t returned it. I could still change my mind. Burn it or something.

Kenzie flips to the second page. “You have to fill out the emergency contact.”

“Why, what am I, bungee jumping?”

Her face says,Yeah, kinda.

“You said something about an appointment,” I remind her.

“I need the emergency contact.”

My face heats. “I don’t have one.”

“It doesn’t have to be family. Just someone who—”

“I don’thaveone,” I cut in sharply, not wanting to hear words likecares about youorwould help you.

I catch a brief glimpse of her processing that. I see how her face is going still, how all the humor and edge is getting replaced by something less welcome. I don’t want to see any more, so I focus on the coffee.

When I don’t have anything else to busy myself with, I have to face her. “What are you doing?”

Her thumbs are tapping her phone. “Texting Dante.”

My heart jumps for something like the fourth time this morning. Fuck, I’m gonna die of a heart attack on a Monday morning at the age of twenty-six.

“Is that really nece—”

Her phone rings. Oh, comeon.

“Yeah, boss. Uh-huh. That’s what he said. Okay, here he is.”

She walks toward me and holds out the phone. I recoil. Oh, hell no. She clears her throat.

“Tristan.” It’s Dante’s voice, coming from the phone. He’s not on speaker, so it’s very distant and muted, but I can still tell.

I take the phone. I cross my free arm over my abdomen as I lift the phone to my ear. “Yeah. I’m here.”

I expect questions, dread them, but Dante says, “Take the contract from Kenzie.”

Not quite able to look at her, I hold out my hand. She gives me the contract.

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